Misanthropic Soul
by thealycat
Summary: The CSIs are at a dead end when they find no usable evidence at their crime scenes. One CSI finds a breakthrough, but it may take her life. The team races to find their detective and the murderer... before time runs out. -No OCs; mild SMacked, mild DL-
1. Prologue

**Hi everyone! I'm trying my hand again at a multi-chapter story. I've always had a problem writing characters when it comes to stories that aren't angst (I can write characters in character for angst, but not for general stories. It's a bit weird.) So I want to challenge myself to do better at writing (use more advanced vocabulary, etc). Also, I want to try to write CSI: NY characters as in character as possible, so that's another challenge I give myself with this. **

**About the story... it's wholly a crime case story. Sorry to say that it will not (really) include any pairings. Maybe if I feel up to it, I may put in some SMacked or Danny/Lindsay banter in. All in due time...**

**Disclaimer: No own. OK? (:**

**A/N (Aly's Note): I really don't have a good experience with multi-chapter stories, so I really hope you like this one! Don't hesitate to give me any help! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! I also did research on Bronx buses and the area around 3rd Avenue-149th Street station, but the subway talk is all real (I take the subway frequently).**

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_Prologue_

"_This is an Eastchester- Dyre Avenue bound 5 local train. The next stop is Jackson Avenue,_" the subway's speaker system came on and recited the words it usually did when it reached the 3rd Avenue-149th Street station in the Bronx. People waiting on the sides filed into the already crowded rush hour train, while people inside the train struggled to get out.

They filed up the stairs and into the streets of the Bronx like a mob. Up the stairs went the people who were ready to leave, while on the other side of the staircase went the people who were making a mad dash to the train. Yet, nobody seemed to mind all the madness of the New York City subway system.

Up went the exiting people. As they reached the exit, they dispersed. Some went this way, some went that way. No one ever followed anyone. Except for this one night.

Emily Rodriguez strolled out of the station with a cake box and walked to the bus stop for the Bx55. She planned to surprise her fiancé, Chris Jackson, for his thirty-sixth birthday. Her brown eyes sparkled as she walked, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. He would suspect nothing; he believed she was in Jersey City for a business meeting.

The bus driver spotted a lone figure waiting at the bus stop and pulled over to let her in. Emily pulled out her MetroCard and inserted it in the bus's slot. A beep signified that she paid her fare and she went to sit. The bus glided through the streets of the Bronx. After a couple of stops, she stopped near St. Barnabas Hospital. Her fiancé's apartment was located a block from the bus stop.

She walked along 183rd Street until she reached his apartment building. Emily pushed open the old mahogany door. It opened with a _creak_ to let her in. The woman walked the two floors up to apartment number 25 and knocked on the door.

"Chris," she called, a grin appearing on her face. "Chris, I've got a surprise for you!" Emily frowned. It wasn't like him to not answer his door unless he was taking a shower. However, she knew he wasn't taking a shower, for at this time, he was probably watching TV.

The brunette knocked again, the pace of her knocking slowing. _Knock…knock…knock. _"Chris, are you in there?" She tried opening the door. To Emily's surprise, it opened. That was strange. He never left his door open.

She pushed it open and walked inside, nearly tripping over a stray shoe. She put the cake box down on a table close to the door and walked into the living room.

"_Oh, and it's yet another touchdown for the Giants! They're going to beat the Packers by quite a lot tonight, Ted,_" the television was on and Emily could faintly hear the sports commentary.

"Chris, babe, you're scaring me. Hello?" she called again. The full living room was in view now, and she saw the most horrible sight of her life. A sanguine river of blood was flowing across the hardwood floor. Arterial spray lined the previously white living walls with crimson lines and drips. The source of all this red was the dead body of Chris Jackson.

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**There's the prologue! Hope you enjoyed (the small bit) it was! Like I said before, constructive criticism is welcomed (in fact encouraged (; ), and reviews are loved and always rewarded with a reply and Ben & Jerry's (This is my new thing XD). **

**(:  
Aly**


	2. All in Due Time

**I thank everyone for their reviews on the prologue! They really made my day (I was having a horrible day that day too. My MetroCard decided to stop working, so I had to take the subway (with the other MetroCard that had barely any money in it) and walk fifteen blocks home. Not fun), so thanks again! (: Hope you enjoy this one too!**

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY… season three DVD set. ;)**

**A/N (Aly's Note): The time setting of the first chapter was 19.00, or 07.00 pm. Sorry that I forgot to mention it. This chapter is set about an hour and fifteen minutes later, 20.15 (08.15 pm).**

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He still watched the building, brown eyes never leaving that same spot. It looked the same as it did last night, only there were cop cars and a lone OCME van lingering in the street. Some officers walked into the building with yellow tape.

He saw that girl—Jackson's girl—coming out of the subway station, full of liveliness and joie de vivre. Yet, he couldn't find himself to kill her. Not just yet. He waited until the next bus came to go to that building and see what became of his work.

He didn't understand any of it, any of this cop stuff. Why were they there? Everything that he was doing atoned for his previous actions, this he was sure of. He didn't understand why they couldn't take it was a credible answer. Couldn't they understand?

Nevertheless, he would continue watching the results of his actions unflinchingly and with a diligent passion; he wouldn't move until something happened. All in due time…

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Mac Taylor walked along the perimeter of the block of the crime scene, 183rd Street in the Bronx. Squad cars and the Medical Examiner's van already waited in the street, angled in such a way that it looked like they were conversing.

"Nice evenin', right Mac?" Don Flack met his colleague at the door of the building housing their crime scene. Crowds of inquisitive neighbors chatting incessantly gathered like a mob outside of the police barriers.

The ex-Marine gave a wry chuckle. "Isn't it always?" he said. "Tell us what we got." Before Flack could respond, a black SUV pulled up and two people got out of it, carrying metallic crime scene kits very similar to Mac's own.

"Messer, I can't believe you would corrupt the Doc like that. You tarnished his perfect attendance record with a black late mark," Flack grinned at his colleagues.

Danny Messer gave a sarcastic laugh. "Ha, very funny, Flack. There was traffic on the West Side Highway."

Sheldon Hawkes chuckled and turned to his senior colleague. "So what've we got, Mac?"

Mac responded to Hawkes's question with one of his own. "What've we got, Flack?"

The detective regained his serious composure and walked inside with the CSIs. Ducking under the crime scene tape, he started to explain the situation to his colleagues. "Our vic is a Chris Jackson, male, Caucasian, just turned thirty-six."

"Who found the body?" Danny asked, also regaining his professional brogue.

"His fiancée, Emily Rodriguez. She wanted to surprise him for his birthday, but she was the one who received the surprise instead," replied Flack, walking into the apartment of Chris Jackson. There, a distraught looking woman stood with another NYPD officer.

"Okay, Danny and Hawkes, you process the scene. I'll talk to Emily with Flack," Mac instructed. The other two nodded and dispersed to separate rooms of the apartment while Mac and Flack walked toward Emily.

"Miss Rodriguez, I'm Detective Flack, this is Detective Taylor with the Crime Lab. We're need to ask you a few questions," Flack said.

The woman sniffled. "I already told all I know to the other officer," she said, nodding her head to the right to indicate which officer she had spoken to previously.

"It's protocol," Mac said. "So, what time did you find the body?" He snapped on a pair of white rubber gloves.

"I found Chris at around 07.00, 07.10. I'd just gotten off the bus and I wanted to surprise him with a birthday cake," she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Anything seem suspicious when you arrived at the apartment?" questioned Flack. He was writing down the information in his portable notepad as the questioning went along.

"Well, when I knocked, he didn't answer. That wasn't typical of him. Also, he left his door open. Chris never does that. He doesn't like the neighborhood so much, so he was kind of afraid to leave the door open," Emily replied, sniffling once more.

"Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt Mr Jackson in any way?" Mac asked. "Work competitors, angry landlords?"

Emily pondered this thought. "Well, he worked as a curator in the Met. There was another person who was vying for the same spot, but was furious when Chris got it. He was sending Chris these threatening notes and stuff until Chris got a TRO against him."

Flack looked up from his notepad. Maybe they were on to something. "You have a name?"

"Darnell. Darnell Owens," Emily replied.

Mac nodded. "Thank you for your time, Miss Rodriguez."

The brunette nodded back. "Thank you detectives. Please find the guy that did this to Chris."

"We will, Miss Rodriguez," Mac assured her. Indeed, he wanted to find this guy. He had this nagging feeling that he was different than any other murderer he had dealt with. He just couldn't place why. All in due time…

---------------------------

Danny and Hawkes photographed the whole scene. Then they began to search for any evidence that could lead them to a suspect.

Hawkes took out a fingerprinting brush, dipped it in black fingerprint powder, and began to brush the ivory colored dresser for prints. Meanwhile, Danny used his ALS to search for any hidden blood or biologicals.

After about three hours of examining the apartment and collecting evidence (Mac had gone with Flack back to PD), Danny sighed in frustration. "Nothin'. I got nothin'," Danny said. "How about you, Doc?"

Hawkes put away his brush and powder and sighed as well. "Nothing here either. I don't understand; how can such a bloody murder come out so clean? There is nothing that can tie this murder to anyone."

Danny agreed. He'd never seen such a clean crime scene before in his life. Where was the guy that had done this? Would they ever find him? All in due time…

The two CSIs walked to their car and put the evidence into the trunk. However, before they could get into the car, gunshots rang out.

---------------------------

Lindsay Monroe looked at the computer screen. Chris Jackson only had one minor criminal charge: obstruction of justice. The rest of his record was relatively clean, save for a few parking tickets. His attendance record at work was good; he only had a few vacations and sick days, and as a result he was recently promoted to curator of the Asian art exhibit over Darnell Owens.

Darnell Owens's record, on the other hand, was completely different from Chris's. The forty-three-year-old had charges for larceny, assault with a deadly weapon, and assault of a law enforcement officer filed against him at the young age of twenty-two. He was able to weasel out some time, however, by helping the authorities, and as a result spent only thirteen years in jail. He'd gotten a job at the Met around the same time that Chris Jackson did. His attendance record, however, was erratic; he took unexpected and unexcused absences, and the amount of sick days he took were off the charts.

"Hey Lindsay, what'd you find out about Jackson and Owens?" Stella Bonasera asked as she walked into the room.

"Enough about them to find out that they're polar opposites. Come take a look," Lindsay replied. Stella pulled up a chair and scanned the computer screen.

"Huh," she said. "Well, we know that Darnell has the motive to kill Chris Jackson. He's also capable of it too; two assault charges within the same year."

"All right, I'll call Flack and tell him to pick up Darnell Owens," Lindsay said, picking up her phone and dialing his number. As she talked to Flack, her brain switched into full case mode. They'd catch this guy. All in due time…

---------------------------

Meanwhile, back in the Bronx, a man—the same man who was watching the building—smiled. He hadn't planned the shooting; it was all extemporaneous. But as he saw that man go down, it made him smile.

He did believe that the actions of his past were being compensated by what he was doing now. Should he be feeling impenitent for his actions? His past actions, yes. But not these actions. Not these…

**

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**I hate how these chapters look so long on Word, but so short on FanFiction. In the summary, it says a detective might lose their life. That detective is not the one who went down. It's going to be a different one. Anyway, hope you liked it, please R&R. Any constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged! As promised, Ben & Jerry's comes with every review.**

**(:**

**Aly**

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	3. Officer Down

**Hey everyone! Sorry for not writing in a while! I had too many things going on (such as my first job). Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far! Also thanks to **dizzygirl464 **for reviewing! Sorry I couldn't reply properly. Okay, so I'm feeling just a tad angsty (How'd you guess?). There **_**MIGHT**_** be DL hurt/comfort in this one. If you squint. **

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY… wallpaper. (:**

**A/N: I'm going to include some police codes in this chapter. I found them on a website. If any are incorrect, I apologize. Also, I had a MAJOR block writing this chapter. Action isn't my strong point. Regardless, hope you liked it!**

* * *

A single gunshot pierced the previously tranquil night air. Danny and Hawkes ducked and instinctively took out their own guns. The first bullet ran through the back tire, which popped and breathed air out as a result.

_Bang-bang!_ Danny and Hawkes each took a shot at the direction where the bullet came from. That shot was met with another single gunshot. Only this time, it didn't hit something inconsequential.

Hawkes flew backwards onto the concrete pavement of the ground. Slowly, he lifted his head up and rested his brown-eyed gaze on his stomach. A pinching pain thrived there as the sanguine red of blood seeped out.

Adrenaline rushed through Danny's veins as he responded to that shot with one of his own. However, after that shot, the former tranquility of the night was restored. The only thing you could hear was Hawkes's labored breathing. A faint, vibrating echo of the last gunshot lingered in the atmosphere.

Danny holstered his gun and immediately knelt down to his friend's side and whipped out his radio. "This is Detective Messer, there's been a shooting, 3rd Avenue and 183rd Street. 10-13; requesting immediate backup and medical assistance. there's been a shooting, 3rd Avenue and 183rd Street. 10-13; requesting immediate backup and medical assistance, now!" he yelled. The detective turned his blue orbs in the direction of Hawkes's injury. The former medical examiner was breathing heavier by the minute.

This was about to happen again. Why was Danny always there when Hawkes got hurt? The same thing happened while they were scuba diving for evidence in the East River. The methane gas bubbled up, causing the ship's mast to fall down on him and crush his oxygen tank. They barely made it out of there.

Danny was jolted out of his reverie by sirens blaring and Hawkes's violent coughing. At this point they couldn't do anything but wait for the nearing ambulance to arrive. That's all they could do. Wait.

* * *

"Hey Flack," Lindsay said when Flack picked up the phone. "I got some background info on Darnell Owens."

_"What do you have?"_ he inquired.

"Well, we know that Darnell had the motive to kill Chris Jackson, but he also had the capability," Lindsay replied, referring to the information she had previously shared with Stella.

Flack raised his eyebrows on the other end, even though Lindsay couldn't see it. _"Really? How's that?"_

"Twenty-one years ago, he had a charge against larceny against him. That may seem irrelevant, _but _along with that larceny charge, there were also charges for assault with a deadly weapon, and assault of a law enforcement officer filed against him," the former Bozeman CSI stated.

Flack whistled. "_You think this guy stepped up to _murder_ with a deadly weapon?"_

Lindsay shrugged. "Maybe. Want me to come with you to pick him up?" Flack didn't answer. "Flack?" she tried calling his name again.

Flack didn't answer Lindsay's question. He was too focused on the message his police scanner just blurted out. "_All units respond, there's been a shooting, 3rd Avenue and 183rd Street. 10-13; requesting immediate backup and medical assistance."_

"Flack?" Lindsay's voice poured out concern as it echoed. "What's going on?"

_"Shooting. The Bronx. Danny and Hawkes,"_ was all he managed to get out. Flack was fiercely protective of his friends. If any one of his friends was in any danger, he was always determined to catch the bastard who endangered them.

It didn't take Lindsay long to process Flack's response. She, however, couldn't formulate one of her own. "Okay," the woman simply said. "I-I'll be there."

Flack nodded, and somehow, Lindsay knew that he was going too. The phone connection ended and she grabbed her keys. On her way to the elevator, her high heels clicked as she thought of her two friends. The brunette just hoped that they were okay.

* * *

"Adam," Mac's voice called as he entered the Trace lab. He stopped and frowned when the lab tech didn't answer. "Adam?"

"Yeah, that's right, who's the mega man now?" the voice of Adam Ross could be heard from next door in the A/V room. Mac quirked an eyebrow and sauntered over to the next room. There sat Adam Ross, playing what appeared to be a Mario video game. The mustached man with a red cap and blue overalls was jumping ecstatically on the computer screen as Adam pumped a fist in the air.

"You won the game?" Mac suddenly said. Startled, Adam jumped out of his chair.

"Boss," he said, standing up and clearing his throat. "I, uh, I can explain why, um, I was doing this instead of…" Adam trailed off as he thought of what he was supposed to be doing. "Uh, what was I supposed to be doing?"

Mac was amused, but he hid that fact well. "Well, you were supposed to be processing the evidence from the Jackson case. Get any work done?"

The Phoenix native was puzzled. "We didn't get any evidence from the Jackson case. Danny and Hawkes haven't brought any back."

Now it was the ex-Marine's turn to be puzzled. Unless they had hit a mother load of evidence, they would have been back by now. He had already pulled out his cell phone when he saw Lindsay briskly walking to the elevator, a clearly agitated look on her face. Mac wondered what this agitation was about.

He walked out of the A/V lab, leaving behind a confused Adam. As he caught up with Lindsay at the elevator, Mac started to ask her a question. "Does your sudden rush to leave have anything to do with Danny and Hawkes?"

Lindsay, who was previously staring at the silver panel of the elevator doors, turned her head and met Mac's inquisitive gaze. "I-I heard it from Flack. There's been a shooting at the crime scene. I'm going to meet Flack up there now."

Mac's ears echoed with two words that Lindsay had said. _A shooting. _There had been a shooting involving two of his CSIs. A million thoughts ran through his head, bad and good. He tried to put the bad on his head and focus on the good.

As Mac was thinking, Lindsay tapped her foot impatiently. Why was the damn elevator taking so long?

The Chicago native could see Lindsay's frustration. "Lindsay, why don't you stay here? I don't know if that is the right place for you right now."

Lindsay raised her head defiantly. "I have to go, Mac. For Hawkes and for Danny. I just have to see Da…" her voice trailed off into a whisper.

She didn't have to say any more after that. Mac could see in her eyes that there was a connection between Lindsay and Danny. Genuine concern and worry were so easily visible in her eyes that he knew that she wasn't going to back down. She was going, and that was final.

The elevator doors opened with a _ding. _Mac nodded at her. "Go. Tell me what happens, okay?"

Lindsay nodded as the doors closed. Mac knew that the decision he made was a good one. Lindsay wanted to go for Danny, and that was understandable. The reason was completely clear.

* * *

Flack and Lindsay arrived in the Bronx and were greeted by a retreating ambulance. Danny leaned against the apartment building of the late Chris Jackson. Footsteps were heard, so he raised his head up to look at the approaching people.

"Messer, what the hell happened?" Flack demanded. He may have sounded harsh, but years of working with Flack made Danny understand that he was concerned for his friend's safety.

"Me and Hawkes were puttin' the evidence in the truck when gunshots rang out. First bullet punctured the back left tire. Second… the second one hit Hawkes. That was him in the ambulance," Danny said, looking at a random soda can laying in the street. "Bullet's a .38 revolver, Smith & Wesson. I already pulled it out and put it in an evidence bag."

Flack nodded. "All right. Listen, I gotta pick up our current prime suspect for interrogation, wanna come with?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I'm all right. I'll see you later."

Flack turned to Lindsay. "How 'bout you, Linds?"

Lindsay shook her head as well. "I'm okay. Go get him, Flack." She cracked a small grin, one which Flack returned. The tall detective then walked to his own car (He and Lindsay had come in separate cars, but arrived at around the same time) and sped off.

That left the two CSIs standing in an uncomfortable taciturnity. Lindsay noticed that something was up with him. "Danny, what's wrong? You know you can tell me," she spoke calmly and softly.

The native New Yorker sighed. "It's just… this is the second time I was there to see the Doc's life endangered. It's not a very pleasant sight to see, you know? And both times, I couldn't do anything to save him. That first time in the East River, I couldn't do anything. That ship's mast was too heavy, and it being underwater didn't help at all. And tonight, when he got shot, the bleeding wouldn't stop," Danny's eyes flickered to the circular pool of blood just a few feet away from him on the sidewalk, the sanguine red only visible because of the streetlight.

Lindsay stood in front of him and took his hands in hers. "But Danny, at least you tried. You tried to help get the mast off of him, and you tried to help him when he got shot. You did everything you could, Danny. Don't blame yourself," she consoled him in a soothing manner.

"Yeah, I know," Danny said. "But somehow, it feels like I could've done more."

Lindsay smiled sadly at him. "You couldn't have. But you did your best, and that's all that matters." She then wrapped her arms around him. Danny held on tight, leaving the two standing in their embrace. The sign of a true friend is doing the best that you can to help another friend in need. As they stood there in their embrace, Danny realized that. He kissed Lindsay on the forehead and smiled. He does know that now.

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**Darnell Owens's charge in the last chapter was assault and battery. I changed it. Sorry guys. **

**22 May 2009: I found some NYPD police ten-codes, so I changed the Las Vegas codes into the NY ones. **

**Too OOC? Constructive criticism is encouraged; reviews are loved.**

_**(:  
**__**Aly**_

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	4. New Information

**SORRY! You can blame school and the common cold. Before I start, I'd like to thank **lily moonlight **for reviewing the last chapter! I don't know how this chapter will turn out, but as usual, reviews are loved and constructive criticism is encouraged. **

**Disclaimer: I WISH I owned CSI: NY.**

**A/N (Aly's Note): The time setting for this is around the hours of 10.00-11.00 PM (22.00- 23.00).**

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Darnell Owens walked out of his West 59th Street and West End Avenue apartment building and hailed a taxi. After about five minutes, a yellow taxi pulled up. Darnell walked up to the borderline of the street and the sidewalk and poked his head through the open passenger side window.

"South Street Seaport?" he asked. The driver nodded and Darnell opened the door, but right before he stepped into the cab, a hand touched his shoulder. The African-American man whipped his head around. Standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder was a tall man with baby blue eyes. He was holding up a badge.

"Darnell Owens?" the man asked.

"Yes?" he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Detective Flack, NYPD. You'll be taking a ride with us instead of him. Let's go." the man—Detective Flack—said, pulling on his arm. The cabbie driver looked at the retreating figures with a puzzled look. He then realized that the door of his cab was left open. Mumbling something in a foreign language, he got out of the cab and slammed it shut.

"Cops." he muttered, getting back into the driver's seat and driving away. Little did he know that a suspicious black vehicle was following him. Even under the bright city lights of New York, the black car seemed to be invisible. No one saw it. No one knew of its existence.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Bronx, Danny and Lindsay were standing on top of a building that was a neighbor to the one in which the late Chris Jackson used to live in. Each CSI had a metallic crime scene kit in their hands. Danny gazed somberly at the spot where Hawkes went down. The sanguine red of the blood was still visible under the streetlights even from that distance.

"A shot from this distance would've taken someone with serious skills. They wouldn't have to be a sniper, but they would've at least have gone to some sort of shooting school. There's no way an amateur could have pulled this off," Lindsay said as a breeze blew by. "Now you're sure the shots came from here?" They had to be accurate in their observations, for even the slightest mistake would have a massive effect on the investigation.

Danny nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm definitely sure. The shots came from this building. I'm positive." he affirmed.

The Montana native knelt down and opened her crime scene kit. "Then this is where we start processing." she said, snapping on a pair of white rubber gloves. Danny mimicked her actions. Standing up, the pair grabbed their sodium rhodizonate sprays and began spraying on opposite sides of the rooftop of the building. The sodium rhodizonate test checked for GSR that was most likely left behind by the person who was shooting at Danny and Hawkes.

It didn't take long for them to find something. "Hey Montana!" Danny called, shining his flashlight on something he sprayed. Lindsay, who was on the opposite side of the building's roof, looked his way.

"What's up?" she asked.

The New Yorker grinned. "We've got a GSR cone." Lindsay walked over to him and glanced at the GSR cone on the bench-like ledge of the building. The black dust of the GSR seemed to shimmer in the dim lighting of the rooftop. Danny took a few snapshots of the cone.

"So we know where the shooter was standing now. He took a shooter's stance and boom," Danny took a shooter's stance pose and mimed pulling a trigger. "The GSR cone and a shooter's stance mean that the gun must have been some sort of rifle."

Lindsay nodded. "Right. But from what you've told me about the crime scene, the body wasn't shot. If it's the same guy who killed Chris Jackson and shot Hawkes, then his MOs are inconsistent."

Danny shrugged. "Killers _have _been known to change their MO. We shouldn't rule out the possibility of two different killers or one single one until we get some solid evidence, which we currently have next to nothing of."

The woman sighed and sat on the ledge at a distance that was away from the GSR cone. As she sat and though, she stared at her feet. Something gleamed near her right foot. Lindsay cocked her head and got up off of the ledge. She pulled out her tweezers from her inside coat pocket, knelt down, and picked up the gleaming object. Danny noticed that she found something and sauntered over to her. He knelt down as well and the two examined the object.

"We just might have solid evidence." Lindsay said, smiling.

* * *

"Mac!" Stella called, jogging over to him. Mac whipped his head around and ceased walking until his partner caught up with him.

"I've just heard about Danny and Hawkes. Are they okay?" Stella asked, worry seen in both her expression and heard in her voice.

Mac sighed. "Flack's just called me with the details. Danny's all right, but Hawkes... Hawkes took a bullet."

"He's going to be okay though, right?" Stella pushed him for information as the concern for her friend grew higher.

"I don't know, Stell." Mac admitted, letting the concern for his colleague and friend appear in his own brown eyes.

Stella gave a small nod. "All right," she said. Deciding to change the morose subject to one of a neutral feeling, she asked Mac another question. "So where were you heading just now?"

Mac met her grey-green eyes. He knew Stella for a quite a while. After all these years of working together, the two have developed some sort of mental telepathy. Mac shot her a look saying that he was thankful for the change in topic. They needed to focus on the case. They needed to find out who killed Chris Jackson and shot Hawkes, if they were the same person at all. It didn't matter if their perp was a single person or a multi-person group; they'd catch him.

"I was just heading to the morgue," Mac replied. "Sid told me that he finished the autopsy on Chris Jackson's body."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Stella asked, a small smile appearing on her face. Mac returned that smile with one of his own as the two walked down to the morgue.

* * *

"TOD was most likely from two to four o'clock this afternoon. Your COD was definitely exsanguination caused by the transection of the carotid artery." Dr. Sid Hammerback announced as soon as Mac and Stella walked into the morgue. He walked with them to the slab that the body of Chris Jackson was lying on.

"That explains all of the arterial spray that was found in the apartment." Mac said.

"Come take a look at the cut." Sid said. The two followed Sid to the other side of the slab, the side in which the head and neck area was located.

The medical examiner clicked his glasses open and closed them just above the bridge of his nose. "You see how edges of the cut look?" Sid asked, holding a microscope over it.. Mac and Stella took a closer look at the cut. The edges looked frayed and torn, like those of ripped jeans.

"It looks jagged." Stella observed, looking up at Sid. He nodded and pointed at the cut one more time.

"The cut was made so that it completely pierced the carotid artery as the neck was being transected. However, the only explanation for the jaggedness of the wound is that the tool—which was most likely a knife—was either fully serrated or really small," Sid explained. "The pattern of the wound is also right to left, which suggests that the killer was left-handed."

"So we're looking for a lefty." Mac stated.

Sid nodded. "You're looking for a lefty. However, there have been cases in which the killer was ambidextrous. Also, some right handed people use their left hand for everyday things."

"Such as murder?" Mac asked. Stella and Sid shared a quick look and then looked back at Mac. Murder was not one of your everyday things.

* * *

"All right. Thanks." Flack said, snapping his phone shut. He'd just gotten off the phone with Mac, who had informed him on the cause of death and related information of Chris Jackson. He looked through the window of the interrogation room. Darnell Owens was sitting down inside, hands folded. Flack noticed his thumbs moving around, the right thumb on top and then the left. It was a continuous motion. Darnell was nervous. It was show time.

The detective opened the door. "Darnell Owens," Flack said, grabbing the chair across from the suspect and sitting in it. He opened the case folder lying on the table and pulled out the pre-autopsy picture of Chris Jackson. "Do you know this man?"

The prime suspect took a glance at the picture and brought his head back up. "Yeah. Yeah, that's Chris. We worked in the Met together. What happened to 'im?"

"His throat was cut open. With a knife that looked like the one that's hidden in your jacket pocket right now." Flack replied, nodding his head at Darnell's jacket pocket. There was a hidden knife in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Flack held his hand out, palm up. He bent his fingers toward him, back out, and then back in, motioning for the man sitting in front of him to give up the knife. Darnell sighed and reluctantly slid the knife across the steel table. Flack picked it up with a handkerchief and looked at it. The knife was a letter opener, but the blade was small and partially serrated. There was also some specks of red on the silver near the hilt. It was blood.

"So, you cut his throat open?" Flack asked nonchalantly. The tone of the tall New Yorker's voice seemed to have the right effect on Darnell.

The man sitting across from Flack widened his dark brown eyes. "What? I would never kill Chris! He was a nice guy."

Flack gave a sarcastic chuckle and pulled out another piece of paper from the folder. "Oh yeah? Well, he didn't think that you thought that of him. He beat you out for the curator position of the Asian art exhibit, _and_ your record shows that you have a violent streak. Also, his fiancée said that you were sending threatening letters against him and only stopped when he got a TRO filed against you. So I'm gonna ask you again: Did you kill him?"

Darnell Owens closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Yeah, I know I have a violent streak and I did send those letters to Chris. But that was just my short temper talking. A few weeks after the TRO was filed, Chris and I sat down for a chat. We talked and he agreed to remove the TRO. We got along just fine after that." He leaned forward in his seat and rested his forearms on the table. "Listen, I've got a wife and a seven-year-old son. We have a great ten-year marriage. No problems whatsoever. I'm not the criminal I was before."

"Where were you between the hours of two to four PM?" Flack interrogated. He was writing everything, every detail down. Every little thing helped.

"I was taking my son to watch the _Madagascar 2 _movie. He's been begging me to see that for the longest time," Darnell replied. "You can ask my wife if you want." He was not hesitant in his answer at all.

"Oh believe me, we will." Flack said.

Darnell sighed. "Can I go now?"

"Sure," Flack said. "_After_ we get a DNA and fingerprint sample."

Their current prime suspect was hesitant, but nodded. Flack stood up and left the room while a tech from the lab came in.

"Okay, open your mouth please." he heard the tech say. He hoped they got somewhere with this.

* * *

"Hey Flack, what's up?" Adam asked as the tall detective walked into the Trace lab.

"We've got a blood on a knife, acquired from one of our suspects. It's possibly the murder weapon of the Jackson case." Flack informed him.

"All right, I'll start working on it now." Adam said as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

"Thanks." Flack said and walked out of the Trace lab. He was headed to Mac's office to inform him of the information he acquired from Darnell Owens.

The ex-Marine was found talking on the phone when Flack entered his office. "Okay doctor, thank you." Mac said and hung up the phone.

"That the hospital?" Flack asked. Mac nodded.

"Yeah, the doctor just informed me about Hawkes's condition." Mac answered.

"How is he?" Don questioned again. He had arrived shortly after Hawkes was pulled out of the water before, only to find that he was okay. Sure, he had a broken arm and several cracked ribs, but that was pretty good compared to what could've happened. He hoped this time would be the same.

"He's okay, but he's got a small concussion from when he went down. He's unconscious now, but he should wake up soon." Mac replied. After he got off the phone with the doctor from St. Barnabas hospital, he was glad to hear that his team member was going to be all right. Every member of his team—Flack, Sid, and Adam included—played a vital role in the job that they had every day. All the crimes that they had solved, all the murderers and criminals that they had put away, was all because of each person that he worked with. Hawkes was okay. Now they could put a central focus on finding Hawkes's shooter and Chris Jackson's murderer.

* * *

**OOC? Any flaws? Reviews are loved and constructive criticism is encouraged. **

**:)  
****Aly**


	5. Malign Events

**WRITER'S BLOCK! -dodges shoe- I've been giving you so many excuses for not updating. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. And now I'm rambling. I'll stop now. -dodges rotten tomatoes-**

**Major thanks to **lily moonlight **for discussion about this chapter and for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own... CSI: NY shirt, baseball cap, and socks. No seriously. It's amazing what you can get in Times Square. I also don't own the name Abu Galib. I kinda got that from an NCIS episode. Hehe, I couldn't think of another name. =P **

**A/N (Aly's Note): The time setting for this is around... 01.00? I don't know if they'd go home after shift or just keep working. So... I'm going to go with just keep working. :) Also, you may have noticed that I put Hawkes as one of the main characters of this story. Well, that was because something happened to him. The other detective (HINT! It's not Sid!) will be put into the main character thing after it is revealed who he/she is. **

* * *

"Hey Adam!" Danny called, startling the lab tech out of his deep sleep. Right before Danny walked in, Adam was in a deep sleep. He even had his feet up on the part of the table where the keyboard was supposed to be. Danny flickered his cobalt blue eyes to the far left side of the table to find the black keyboard resting there. "We've got some work to do."

Adam looked at the detective and the two uniformed officers behind him. They were all holding white evidence boxes.

"Only three boxes of evidence? Was that place a Clorox bottle or something?" Adam asked.

Danny gave a small shrug. "Might've been. We couldn't get much. We got some reference samples from the fiancée and took some items and prints from the place, but other than that... nothin'." the CSI stated.

The lab tech snapped on some white rubber gloves. "Let's get to work then."

* * *

Cab Driver Abu Galib drove his cab to his cab company's hub. Rows of yellow cabs greeted him as his own yellow cab rolled into the lot. He parked his on the left of the cab he knew belonged to Jamal Bhakan. His knowledge of the owner of the car came from the blue fuzzy dice that hung from the rear view mirror. The Pakistani man chuckled at the dice and looked to his left. His window was still open and his engine was still on. He was just about to close the window and shut off the engine when his phone beeped. Abu took it out of his pocket and opened it. He had received a text message from his brother.

"_I'm not coming home tonight, so feel free to eat the Boston cream pie that I left there." _the message read. Abu grinned; he'd wanted that pie. His brother was a chef, so he occasionally brought home sweet treats to the house the brothers shared. However, in the interim between Abu read the message and finished replying, a black car rolled into the hub. The cab driver heard nothing. The black car pulled up next to the yellow vehicle and shut off its engine. Again, Abu Galib could hear nothing; he was busy replying to his brother. He might have been able to hear something, but he was slowly losing his hearing and his keys clicked when you pressed them.

"I would be honored to take that pie." Abu said as he typed. As he was typing, a man got out of the black vehicle and stealthily walked up to the open driver-side window. Right after he pressed 'Send', he put his phone in his pocket and looked to his left to close the window. But he gasped when he saw a man wearing a black windbreaker and leather gloves standing there.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Abu said in slightly accented English. The man said nothing. The cab driver tried to scurry quickly to the other side of the car, but the mysterious stranger was too quick for him. He covered his mouth with a cloth doused in chloroform. Abu thrashed and tried to get the strange man off of him, but the other man was stronger. In a matter of seconds, Abu Galib fell unconscious. The man smiled and rolled the window up. The he opened the back door directly behind the driver's seat. He then proceeded to cut Abu's neck open, slicing his carotid artery open. The sanguine red of arterial spray lined the front of the car.

The grin on the strange man's face got even bigger. He proceeded to check the car for evidence that might link him to the crime. He made sure everything was in order. He even sprayed the air with air freshener to get rid of the scent of the chloroform.

After that was done, he rolled his car outside to a nearby parking lot. He walked to the nearest building and rode the elevator up to the top floor. Then he just sat and waited, like all the times before.

* * *

About ten minutes after the mystery man left, manager Chuck Davidson walked into the taxi hub. He was ordered by his boss to work a late shift to fix one of the taxis that had a broken fan belt and transmission. He claimed that if Davidson fixed it himself, it would 'save them money'. However, his boss said nothing about taking midnight snacks.

"I need to go to that diner more often." Chuck murmured to himself. He walked a few more steps to the right where a taxi stood. Its hood was propped open and a rusty silver toolkit lay beside it.

_Sigh_. "Back to work." the taxi hub manager said. As he began to work on the car some more, he realized that an engine was still running. That was extremely irritating when he was trying to work. He walked over to that cab to tell the driver to shut their engine off.

"Hey buddy, I know none of us want to be here right now, but can you shut your engine off, please? It's kinda hard to work with that thing running on and on." Chuck said as he was walking up to the humming taxi. The engine still buzzed.

"Look, buddy, can you do a guy a favor please?" the man repeated. As he approached the offending taxi, he stopped dead in his tracks. The wrench in his hand dropped to the floor with a metallic _clink._

"Holy Mary, mother of God." he whispered. He couldn't believe his eyes. The windows of the offending cab were lined with blood. The back door closest to the driver's side was left open. And Abu Galib's lifeless eyes stared directly at Chuck Davidson.

* * *

About the same time that Chuck Davidson found his 'surprise', Mac Taylor arrived at St. Barnabas Hospital. He stared through the glass of the door that led into Hawkes's hospital room. He just couldn't believe that this had happened to his CSI. As he watched the African American man lying on the hospital bed, he remembered the time when he got mad at Hawkes for knowing the victim. Then his mind flashed to the time when Hawkes had almost lost his life scuba diving for evidence. As with the rest of his team, Mac had adopted Hawkes as family. As if with his real family, he wouldn't stop working until he found the bastard who hurt him.

There was a gentile touch on his shoulder. The ex-Marine turned around to meet the green-grey orbs of Stella. "You okay, Mac?" her voice oozed concern. Although Stella kept on saying 'It's because I knew him for a while' to the accusations that she was closer to Mac than any other of her teammates, she had to mentally succumb to their indubitable accusations. She did feel a stronger relationship between them than she did with Danny or Angell or any member of the team. While she had admitted that to herself, the Greek wasn't quite sure that she should tell this to Mac yet. If he didn't...well, agree with her, this could bifurcate their relationship as friends and co-workers. Right now, the best she could do was be a good friend.

Mac was oblivious to her present thoughts, and didn't see any of them through her gaze. "I'm fine, Stell." he said. To Stella, it was obvious that he wasn't.

"Mac, c'mon," Stella said, seeing right through him. "I know you better than that. What's really on your mind?"

The Chicago native sighed. "Hawkes," was his simple reply. Seeing the look Stella gave him, he knew he had to elaborate on his answer. "The stuff that happened to Hawkes."

"As in...?" the female detective standing beside him pressured him for more answers.

"The time when I got mad at him for knowing the victim. The time when he almost died scuba diving for evidence," Mac sighed after those two statements and reverted his blue-green eyes to Hawkes's unconscious form. "He almost died today."

Stella sadly smiled at Mac. "But he _didn't_. That's the important thing."

"I know that he didn't, but he could've," Mac continued. "It was lucky that St. Barnabas was only a couple of blocks from the crime scene. What if they had to rush an ambulance from far away? He could've lost a lot of blood and possibly his life. We've already lost Aiden." He was referring to the loss of a teammate of theirs, Aiden Burn.

"Aiden's loss was hard, Mac. I know it would've been hard if we lost Hawkes, but it would also have made us more determined to find the son of a bitch who did it. He's alive, Mac. He's not going anywhere." Stella reassured him on that fact. "Unless he quits, which is probable cause to attack him." She smirked and then laughed.

Mac chuckled. His partner's attempt to lighten the mood had worked.

"Now c'mon, let's go visit him. He wouldn't like it if we just stood here and talked about him." Stella continued. Mac nodded and pushed the door open.

There, near the front of the door, were two blue chairs. They were most likely reserved for visitors. Mac dragged them over to Hawkes's bedside. The two detectives took a seat next to the former ME's sleeping form.

"Hey Hawkes," Stella said. She didn't quite know what to say after that. "Um, we haven't gotten anywhere on the case yet, but we're going to get the son of a bitch who did this. Mark my words, we will."

Mac nodded in agreement. "Damn right we will." he added. Just then, a musical melody filled the air. Stella picked up her ringing phone and answered it.

"Bonasera," she answered, walking close to the door. "Yeah, Angell, what's up?" Mac turned his attention to Stella's phone conversation.

"Where? Chelsea...8th Avenue and 23rd Street? Okay, I'll call Lindsay and we'll be right there. Bye." She hung up.

"What's up?" Mac asked. Stella sighed. "There's been another DB. It looks like the same MO as the Chris Jackson murder. Most likely the same guy."

"You and Lindsay going?" Mac asked again.

Stella nodded. "Yeah, we're going to meet Angell at the scene," She then realized that she and Mac had came to the hospital in the same car. "Uh, if you want, I can ask Lindsay to pick me up here."

Mac shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. Coming up here from the lab and then going down to Chelsea would take too long. In the interim between, the guy could get farther away. You go. I'll just catch a cab."

"All right, if you're sure,"Stella said. "Update me as soon as you can on Hawkes's prognosis, all right?" Mac nodded.

"Talk to you later." Stella said, turning toward the door. However, as soon as her skin made contact with the door handle, she heard her name being called. It was Mac.

The curly-haired woman turned back "Yeah?" She found that he was standing up and facing her. Suddenly, he pulled her into a hug.

"Thanks." he said.

Stella was a bit puzzled. "For what, Mac?"

"Just being a good friend." he replied simply, smiling. Stella smiled back. After a short awkward silence, the two broke their embrace. There was an awkward atmosphere left in the room as the two just stood there, Stella momentarily forgetting the case.

"Um, well, you should..." Mac started, scratching the back of his head.

"Meet Lindsay at the scene, yeah. Talk to you later." Stella finished, smiling. She then turned and left. Mac stared at her retreating figure and smiled. Stella was a really good friend,and she had helped him out with some of his bad times, especially when Claire died. He was lucky to have a friend like her.

As Mac was staring out the window as Stella's retreating form, something was happening inside of Hawkes. After about a second, it began to show on the machine and on the outside.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep! _The machine next to Hawkes's bedside began beeping rapidly as Hawkes thrashed around violently on the hospital bed. Mac turned around as soon as he heard the rapid beeps. He opened the door as quick as possible and yelled out, "I need medical assistance in here now!"

A nearby doctor heard the call and immediately rushed in with a nurse. He felt Hawkes's forehead and looked at the monitor near his bedside. "He's having a grand mal seizure. His blood pressure is rising! If we don't give him something, his BP is going to be exorbitant!" he said to the nurse. "I need ten milligrams of Valium, stat!" The doctor then turned to Mac. "I'm sorry, but you can't be in here right now, sir." the doctor said with an apologetic look on his face.

Mac's expression was a cross between that of a defiant and worried one. He held up his badge and told the story to the doctor. "NYPD, this man is a member of my team! I need to stay here!"

"I understand, sir, but it's hospital policy." the doctor said, carefully inserting something into the thrashing Hawkes's mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue. "Where's that damn Valium, Lisa?!" he yelled. The nurse—Lisa—rushed into the room after grabbing a needle and ten milligrams of Valium.

The detective opened his mouth to argue, but he realized that they were wasting time by arguing. He reluctantly left and watched through the window.

Lisa grabbed Hawkes's IV and injected the medicine in. Within minutes, Hawkes stopped thrashing and the BP machine beeped normally.

The doctor and nurse stayed for a couple of more minutes to make sure he was okay, then walked out. Mac caught up with them just as they were walking out.

"What's the prognosis, Doctor?" Mac asked. The doctor—who's name was later revealed to be George Laurent—sighed.

"Well, it's possible that your colleague could have slipped into a coma," Dr Laurent stated. However, he continued after he saw the look on Mac's face. "I will contact his doctor, however, and ask him to run some tests. I'll ask him to let...who am I speaking to?"

"Detective Mac Taylor." Mac told him name to the doctor.

"Detective Mac Taylor be the first to know," Dr Laurent finished. "The patient's name is?"

"Sheldon Hawkes." Mac said, relaying this information to the doctor.

"Oh, I know who his doctor is. His doctor is my wife, Eva Laurent," the tall doctor replied. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you are the first to hear about an update."

Mac nodded. "Thanks Doctor, I appreciate it." The doctor nodded, then followed the nurse out of the ward. The CSI looked through the window of the door just like he did when he came in. But now more than ever, he hoped his team member was going to be all right.

* * *

**Blah, just after I lose my writer's block, I get it again during the last (the SMacked) part -_- **

**So what do you think? Too OOC? Not enough description? I would love to hear from you! Reviews are loved and always replied to, and constructive criticism is welcomed. **


	6. Another Victim

**-checks room for people- Um, hi. -mob comes and throws rotten garbage at Aly- I HAVE A LEGIT EXCUSE THIS TIME! -dodges rotten tomato- I HAD END-OF-SEMESTER (midterm) TESTS! But now I can focus on writing. SO DON'T KILL ME. By the way, if you haven't noticed, I changed my name from **_**theAlyCat **_**to **_**alysandra sunsets**_** because I saw a brilliant sunset over the weekend and Alysandra is my full name XD. Just so you know. :)**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight **for reviewing and discussion and **BlueEyedAuthor **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY….posters. :)**

* * *

A bright flash from Lindsay's camera greeted Stella at the Chelsea crime scene. She ambled over to the yellow crime scene tape, where Detective Jessica Angell was waiting. The homicide detective was talking to one of the uniformed officers on the scene—presumably the first responding officer—and taking down notes in her detective's notepad.

A small breeze of frigorific winter air blew in Stella's direction. She shivered, using her free hand to pull her coat tighter around her. Her metallic crime scene kit sparkled under the streetlights.

The breeze came again as Angell began sauntering in Stella's direction. "Ready to get into the nice warmth of the crime scene, Stella?"

Stella chuckled. "I'm always ready to go into a warm crime scene, Jess, especially in the wintertime. What've we got?" They ducked under the crime scene tape and walked toward Lindsay.

"36-year-old Pakistani man, Abu Galib," Angell read. "He came to New York five years ago from Islamabad, and now works in a cab company for this guy." She pointed out Chuck Davidson, who was nervously speaking to a uniform. His eyes were wide and he was constantly pointing at the car in which the body lay.

"That's Chuck Davidson, manager of this taxi company. He came back from a 'midnight snack' at a nearby diner to work on a cab, and found Galib. I'll check with the diner, make sure they confirm his location." Angell finished.

The Greek detective nodded. "Thanks, Jess." Angell nodded back and walked out of the crime scene.

As Angell walked away from her, Lindsay walked toward her. "Hey," she said. "From what I've seen, the MO looks very much like the one in Danny and Hawkes's case. Speaking of Hawkes, how is he?" Concern flooded Lindsay's brown eyes.

"He's okay," Stella replied. "I was just at the hospital with Mac. Hawkes is doing fine, he's resting." She flickered her grey-green eyes to the car. "Pull anything from the car?"

Lindsay shook her head. "When you came, I only started taking pictures. Haven't got a chance to pull any evidence yet. But if the MO is consistent with the first crime scene, there wouldn't be any incriminating evidence left behind."

"This guy had to have left something behind," Stella tried to reason. "What about Locard's principle?" Dr. Edmund Locard was a 20th century French forensic scientist who—in simplified terms—stated that whenever a person took something away from a crime scene, he always left something else behind.

The Montana native shrugged. "I really hate to go against one of the fathers of forensics, but I think his principle may have been wrong for this crime scene." Stella knew Lindsay meant no wrong, but she was skeptical about that statement. Locard's principle had _never _failed them at a crime scene. So why did it seem to be failing now?

"You know what, let's process the scene after we talk to Mr Davidson. Let's hear his account of the event." Stella said. Lindsay nodded and both women walked to Chuck Davidson.

"Mr Davidson?" Lindsay softly asked. "I'm Lindsay Monroe, this is Stella Bonasera. We're with the Crime Lab. Mind if we ask you a few questions?" The middle-aged man shook his head.

"Approximately what time did you enter the hub?" interrogated Stella.

"Around one in the mornin', I think." He answered in an Irish accent. "My boss wanted me to fix a cab, but I got bored. So I went to the diner across the way. When I got back, I found this." Davidson pointed at the car. The coroner had arrived and was now loading the body onto a gurney.

"Anything seem strange when you came back? A light left on, something peculiar on the floor?" Lindsay asked.

Davidson thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, I went to throw my coffee away when I noticed a canister of air freshener in the trash. I figured it might have nothing to do with anything, so I ignored it."

Lindsay was thinking, too. "Come to think of it, the car did have a faint 'lemony fresh' smell when I took pictures. Which bin?" She asked Davidson.

"That one right there," he said, pointing to a lone garbage bin.

Lindsay was already wearing gloves, so she just stuck her hands into the bin and searched for the air freshener can. Stella walked over to hear and inspected the can.

"Lemony fresh," she observed. The detective snapped on gloves of her own and dropped the canister into a plastic evidence bag.

Chuck Davidson stood near the garbage bin, fidgeting. "Can I go home now?" he asked.

Stella turned back and nodded. "Sure, just don't go far." The taxi hub manager then proceeded to scurry away, occasionally turning his head backwards to glance at the car.

"All right," Stella said. "Let's get processing."

* * *

As Stella and Lindsay began processing evidence, Adam and Danny were just finishing. They had done all the long, painstaking tests only to come up with nothing incriminating. Currently, they were working on prints on a cake box that they had found near the entrance, and DNA for two cups found on the kitchen table.

"I'm not surprised to come up with nothin'," Danny said to Adam. "The place was almost pristine, save for the blood that was everywhere. But I still have a hard time believin' that there is no piece of evidence with something."

_Beep!_ The computer that was running DNA beeped, signifying that there was a match. Adam hopped out of his seat and went to the computer to check the results.

"DNA came back on both of the glass cups," Adam reported. "First cup's DNA matches to the vic, Chris Jackson."

"What about the second?" Danny asked, joining Adam at the CODIS computer.

"Second matches a… Serena McLaughlin." Adam added. "Ever hear of her?"

Danny shook his head. "No. Why's she in the system? Any priors?" Adam clicked on a couple of more things.

"She unknowingly tampered with evidence at a case a couple of years ago. Charges were filed and then dropped."

"All right, I'll call Flack. He and Mac'll wanna talk to her." Danny said, pulling out his cell phone.

"_Flack."_

"Flack, it's Danny. Adam found DNA on a cup next to Chris Jackson's. It doesn't come back to the fiancée, but another woman. Serena McLaughlin." the CSI informed him.

"_All right, finally getting somewhere. I'll call Mac then pick her up." _Flack said. Danny then hung up his phone.

"Thanks Adam." Danny said, proceeding to walk out of the door.

_Beep!_ The computer that was running the prints then beeped. Adam sauntered to the AFIS computer. Danny walked back into the room.

Adam's eyes scanned the screen. "First set of prints came back to an Emily Rodriguez," the lab tech reported.

"No surprise there," Danny said. "Her statement said that she brought a cake home to surprise him on his birthday." Adam nodded and clicked on something.

"The second set came back to a Yousaf Galib," Adam read off of the screen. He then looked at Danny. "His prints are on file because his place of employment requires it, so no previous arrests. He come up in any of the statements?"

Danny pondered the name for a moment and then shook his head. "Nah, that name doesn't ring a bell. He could be the baker."

"Or a suspect." Adam pointed out another possibility. "Or he could be the baker _and _a suspect."

Danny nodded in agreement. "You're right. There an address there? Around seven, I'll go have a little chat with Mr Galib."

"Yeah, it's at 89-49 89th Avenue in Richmond Hill, Queens." Adam read.

"All right, thanks." Danny said, pulling off his gloves and throwing them into the garbage bin near the exit.

* * *

"Detective Taylor?" a female voice said, touching Mac gently on the shoulder. Mac jolted awake and took in the image of his surroundings. He must have fallen asleep in the lobby hospital, because a young female doctor wearing a lab coat stood in front of him.

"Sorry." Mac mumbled. The doctor smiled.

"It's quite all right," she said. "I'm Dr Laurent. My husband told me you wanted to know more on Dr Hawkes's condition?"

Mac nodded, hoping to hear good news. "Please." he said.

"Well, he did suffer from a seizure yesterday, but he's stable now." Relief flooded Mac's face.

"However…" Dr Laurent continued. Mac stiffened up in his chair. A 'however' wasn't a good sign.

"In some cases, a person can go into a coma after seizing. That's what happened to Dr Hawkes." the female doctor went on. "His coma isn't bad, though, so he should wake up. The longest he'll probably be asleep is a month, shortest a week."

Mac took in all the information and nodded. "Thank you, Doctor." he said. Dr Laurent smiled and walked away. The detective's blue-green eyes shifted from the doctor's retreating figure to Hawkes's unconscious form. He looked peaceful and pensive asleep.

'_You'll get through this, Hawkes.'_ Mac thought. He was confident on that part. Each and every one of the people he worked with was as tough as nails. Hawkes was not an exception.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The ex-Marine fished around his jacket pocket for his phone and then answered it.

"Taylor." Mac answered.

"_You're still at the hospital, aren't you?" _The voice of Don Flack said.

"How'd you find out?" Mac asked, chuckling a little.

"_Stella,_" he replied. "_I called not long ago for an update on the Doc's condition and she said you were still at the hospital._

"What'd she tell you?" the CSI asked.

"_She said that he was fine,_" Flack said. _"Why? Something happen?_"

Mac sighed. "He had a seizure and slipped into a coma."

Flack let out a sharp breath. _"Shit. He gonna be okay?"_

Mac nodded. "For the most part, yes. But he might not wake up until a month later. Thankfully, the doctor said the coma shouldn't be any more than a month." After he said this, he suddenly had even more motivation to catch the guy, and he knew that Flack did too.

The Chicago native then decided to change the subject. "Anyway, what've you got?"

"_Danny and Adam pulled DNA off of a cup found next to Chris Jackson's. It wasn't a match to the fiancée, however_." Flack informed him, returning back to business.

Mac stood up in his chair. Finally, a possible lead. "Address?"

"_5629 Amethyst Avenue in the Bronx_," Flack answered. "_But Mac… it's three in the morning. I know you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but we have to wait until morning. Probably around seven." _

Mac wanted to say something, but he knew Flack was right. People remember better when they're awake.

"All right," Mac agreed. "Seven."

"_All right_," Flack confirmed. "_And Mac? Go home._" he added.

Mac laughed softly, the tiredness that had plagued him before returning. "Okay." Both men then hung up the phone. They were going to get this guy.

There was no doubt about it.

* * *

Stella and Lindsay finished processing around six o'clock in the morning. The reason that it took them four hours to process was because the hub was a big place, and evidence could be anywhere. But unfortunately, all that time searching didn't reveal much. Like the previous crime scene, only three boxes of evidence were filled.

"Four hours came up with only that?" Stella asked, surprised at the diminutive amount of evidence that they had collected. "Usually four hours brings more evidence."

Lindsay shrugged. "I don't know. The guy must be an expert," she said, throwing her gloves away. Then she remembered something. "Wait, don't we have to inform the next-of-kin?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah. His next-of-kin is his brother, right?"

The CSI checked her notes. "Mhm," Lindsay said. "He currently resides in Richmond Hill, Queens."

"All right, let's drop off the evidence at the lab, grab a quick coffee, and _then _head over to the house. I'm not going to stay awake for much longer without coffee." Stella said. Lindsay laughed and nodded.

They brought the evidence back to the lab and stopped for a quick cup of coffee to-go. It was nearing seven-thirty when they parked in front of Abu Galib's brother's one-story house.

"Nice place." Stella commented. The moderately sized brick house had a variety of garden ornaments on the lawn. Gnomes were among the popular ornament of choice. About a dozen ceramic eyes bored into Stella's own grey-green. It was a bit creepy.

The two detectives walked up the walkway to the white front door. Stella was about to knock when Lindsay stopped her. She pointed at the lock of the door. It was left the tiniest bit ajar. They both looked at each other and nodded. Drawing their guns, they opened the door and crept inside.

They separated into different parts of the house, making sure that no one except for Galib's brother was inside.

Lindsay opted to go right, in the direction of the living room. There, she saw a Middle Eastern man sitting on the couch—presumably Galib's brother—and the back of a man who did not seem Middle Eastern at all.

"Yousaf Galib, NYPD," Lindsay announced, making her presence known. "Show yourself. You too, sir." Both men stood up and proceeded to face her, Galib's counterpart with a confused expression on his face. However, it wasn't just any face.

Lindsay's mouth formed a small 'O'. "Danny?"

* * *

**How was it? Did it make up for my absence? OOC? **

**Don't worry, Danny's not in cahoots with anyone. Remember in Danny and Adam's part, it said that he had to interview a Yousaf Galib. Last name ring a bell? XD Also, the time setting for the chapter:**

**Stella meeting Angell and Lindsay at the crime scene was two-thirty in the morning. The rest of it until the travel to the next-of-kin's house is three in the morning. Then the remaining chapter is around seven-thirty. Hope you liked it! Reviews are loved and always replied to; constructive criticism is welcome.**


	7. Connections and Questions

****

Hey there everyone. How's everyone doing? Good, I hope. So I'm sorry that I'm turning into a monthly updater, but real life is very hectic. Also, some weird stuff is going on, so I can't update as often. I hope you guys understand. And if not... -is dressed in a biohazard suit-, I'm ready for the trash to be thrown! XD

**Thanks to **lily moonlight**, **BlueEyedAuthor**,** Hermione's Shadow**, and **sammyxgoose **for reviewing! Additional thanks to **lily moonlight **for discussion! **

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY... pictures. :)**

* * *

"Lindsay?" Danny asked, equal amount of confusion in his voice.

"Lindsay, the rest of the house is clear..." Stella began, coming up behind Lindsay. Her eyes were focused on putting her gun away. When she looked up, she saw the same familiar face that Lindsay saw.

"Danny?" Stella asked, cocking her head to the right. The Greek proceeded to ask the question that had been gnawing at Lindsay's mind. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm interviewing a POI," Danny replied, scratching the back of his head. "What're you two doing here?"

"Our victim's next-of-kin is your person of interest?" Lindsay asked, surprised. "This changes everything."

"Uh, excuse me," a Middle Eastern accented voice interrupted the conversation. It was Yousaf Galib. During all the craze about why someone was where, they forgot the main reason that they were at the house. "What is going on?"

The three detectives looked at each other. With his eyes, he let Stella and Lindsay know that they could go first. The two women nodded and turned to face Yousaf Galib.

"Mr Galib, I'm sorry that we interrupted your conversation with Detective Messer, but I'm afraid that we have some bad news," Stella began. "I'm very sorry to have to say this, but... your brother was found dead early this morning."

Yousaf took his eyes away from the three detectives and looked at the ground. "But… how? I had been texting him at around one o'clock in the morning. He can't be dead." His words came out as a shocked whisper.

"If you would like, we have a picture of the deceased that you can look at. There is a possibility that the body that we found is not your brother. We just need you to confirm that it is." Lindsay said softly, not wanting to sound like a relentless cop.

Yousaf Galib nodded. "Yes," he said, accent becoming thicker as he two tears silently poured down his face. "I would like to see the picture." Lindsay gave him a small smile and left the room to get the picture.

Stella let Danny know that he could proceed with his conversation. The Staten Island native nodded and faced Yousaf.

"Mr Galib," he began. "Where were you yesterday afternoon from two to four o'clock yesterday afternoon?"

"I was working at my bakery," Yousaf replied. "My employees can verify that."

"Okay, does this box mean anything to you?" He pulled a picture out of the case file that he had placed on a side table. He gave the picture to Yousaf and the Middle Eastern man scrutinized it.

"Yes, I recognize it," he said. "This box comes from my bakery in the Financial District, near the subway station. You may say that this is a strange location to have a bakery, but it seems that business people like it. So I stay." Both Stella and Danny gave a small smile at this.

"Well, we recovered it at a dead man's apartment. Chris Jackson. Name ring any bells?" Danny managed to interrogate the man without sounding too brusque.

Yousaf pondered the name for a moment and nodded. "I do remember that a young woman was talking about him. Emily Rodriguez, yes. She is a frequent customer at my bakery. She told me that she wanted a cake for her fiancé. He was just turning thirty-six. Emily planned on surprising him. That was my last double chocolate cake of the day."

Danny nodded. "Ms Rodriguez told us that she bought a chocolate cake from a bakery near the subway station," he said to Stella, filling her in. "But have you ever heard of Mr Jackson other than when Ms Rodriguez was talking about him?"

Yousaf shook his head. "Detectives, I wish I could help, but I have never heard of him before."

Danny sighed and nodded. "Okay, thank you for your time, Mr Galib. Detective Monroe should be coming back with the picture of the deceased now."

As if on cue, Lindsay walked back into the Galib household. The Montana native handed the picture to Yousaf. "Is this your brother, Mr Galib?"

Yousaf looked at the picture and choked on a sob. "Yes," he nodded. "That's my brother."

"Do you have any idea who might want to hurt him?" Stella asked.

Yousaf shook his head. "No. Abu was a very likeable man. Only our father didn't agree with him much, but he died three years ago."

Stella nodded. "Thank you for your time, sir." she said. With those final words, the three detectives walked out of the house.

While they were walking back to their cars, they talked about the possible connection between their two cases. "Do ya think that they're connected?" Danny asked.

Lindsay nodded. "I think so. I saw the crime scene photos from your case. The MO is identical to the one in our case."

"We also have a person who connects the case together. Yousaf Galib. I believe him, though. He didn't do anything." Stella said.

"Neither did Darnell Owens," Danny added. "The blood on his knife came back to be his own. He must've drawn blood when he cut himself."

Stella pressed a button on her car keys, unlocking her Avalanche's door. Danny followed suit.

"All right, I'm going to go back to the lab and gather information on my case. We should meet in the layout room later to discuss all of this." the native New Yorker said, climbing into his car.

"I think I should go too, to get information on our case," Lindsay said to Stella. "Then Danny and I can compare to see exactly how it's connected."

Stella nodded. "That's a good idea," she agreed. Her pager then rang. It was Sid, informing her that he had finished the autopsy. "I'm going to go to the morgue. Sid's finished the autopsy. I'll keep you informed."

The other two detectives nodded. Lindsay climbed into Danny's car and shut the door. Pretty soon, they were driving off. Stella did the same. What the hell was going on with these cases?

* * *

"Serena McLaughlin." Flack said, circling the interrogation table once. His baby blue eyes bored into her own emerald green, making her feel uncomfortable.

"I don't understand. Why am I here?" she asked. Flack sat down while Mac proceeded to talk

"You're here because of him," Mac replied, handing her the autopsy picture of Chris Jackson. "He look familiar?"

Serena's face blanched. She gulped and said, "Ye-yeah. That's Chris. Chris Jackson."

"Well, yeah, we kinda figured that out," Flack said. "But that's not the exact reason that you're here." He pulled out the picture that Adam took of her fingerprint on a cup.

The woman looked at it. "It's a fingerprint on a cup." she said bluntly.

"Yeah, but it's _your _fingerprint on the cup," Mac corrected her. He pulled out her mug shot from the case folder and gave it to her. "One prior for tampering with a crime scene. Did you tamper with this one, too? Did you kill Chris Jackson?"

Serena's emerald green eyes widened. "No! I couldn't kill Chris!" she protested. "I-I loved him."

Mac and Flack shared a quick look, a surprised expression on each detective's face. Last time they checked, Chris's fiancée was Emily Rodriguez.

"Did his fiancée know about this?" Flack asked, writing the information down in his detective's notepad.

"Emily?" Serena asked. "No, she didn't. I was the one who introduced Chris to her."

"So were you regretting that you did that? Was it another case of 'if I can't have him, no one can'? Did you kill Chris because 'if you couldn't have him, no one could'?" Flack interrogated.

Serena's eyes flashed with impatience. "I _did not_ kill Chris," she said through gritted teeth. "I was having an affair with him, but I did not kill him. Now, if there's nothing else, then I'm leaving." The woman stood up to leave, but Mac called after her.

"Ms McLaughlin, we're not done yet." Mac said. Serena sighed. She really was tempted to tell them to direct all further questions to her lawyer, but she knew that she couldn't afford one. She sat back down and looked at the detectives with a semblance of a look of disdain on her face.

"What?" she asked roughly.

"How did your fingerprint get on the cup?" Mac continued. "It was found next to Mr Jackson's cup."

"I went to his house for drinks around... one o'clock?" Serena said.

"And where were you at around two to four o'clock yesterday afternoon?" Flack asked, pen still in hand and detective's notepad still open.

"I was at the Barnes and Noble on 86th between Third and Second," Serena replied. "You can ask one of the cashiers there, Brian McLaughlin. He's my cousin."

"Okay, _now_ you can go," Flack said, closing his detective's notepad. Serena stood up and left, not looking back at the interrogation room. Both detectives looked at the woman's retreating form before looking at each other.

"What do you think, Mac?" Flack asked.

The ex-Marine sighed. "I don't think she did it." He concluded.

"I don't think so either," Flack said, leaning back in his chair. "I don't like her, but I don't think she's guilty."

"Back to square one, I suppose." Mac sighed. Suddenly, both his and Flack's phones beeped simultaneously. They both looked at their respective phones before speaking at the same time.

"It's Danny." they said at the same time.

"Did his text tell you to meet him and Lindsay in the layout room?" Flack asked. Mac nodded.

"Yeah," he replied. "Let's go see what he wants."

* * *

At around the time that Mac and Flack finished their interrogation, Stella walked into the morgue.

The click of her heels on the morgue's hard floor prompted Sid to look up. "Ah, the taxi hub body, I presume?" he asked.

Stella smiled. "You know me so well, Sid." she said, walking with him to the covered body.

Sid pulled back the cover, exposing Abu Galib from the shoulders up. "COD was the same as Chris Jackson, exsanguination due to the transection of the carotid artery."

"Figured as much," Stella murmured. "What about the murder weapon?"

Sid held up a magnifying glass to the neck wound. "The murder weapon was most likely the same as Chris Jackson's. The wounds have the same jagged edges as Chris Jackson's, the wound depth is more or less the same, and the directionality of the wound is right to left. It's most likely that this is the same killer."

"That's what I was thinking, Sid," the Greek said. "Stomach contents or tox tell you anything?"

"His tox screen was clear of drugs and alcohol, and he hadn't eaten anything close to TOD, so there weren't any stomach contents. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Stella." Sid replied.

Stella's phone beeped. "It's not your fault, Sid. It's this bastard's fault. Thanks for everything." she said before walking out of the morgue and into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, Stella took out her phone and checked it. It was a text from Danny telling her to meet in the layout room with everyone. She hoped that they found something.

* * *

Stella was the last to arrive in the layout room, which consisted of Danny, Lindsay, Flack, Mac, and Angell.

She noticed the disappointed looks on both Danny and Lindsay's faces. "What's going on?"

"Other than the fact that Yousaf Galib was a person in both of our cases, we can't prove that the cases are connected." Danny said.

"Well, Sid told me that it was more than likely that the person who killed Chris Jackson was the same person who killed Abu Galib." Stella added.

"We have dealt with copycats in the past, Stell," Angell pointed out. "It may not be the same person."

"A copy cat that uses the same weapon?" Stella asked. "Sid said that the weapon was most likely the same one that killed Chris Jackson. I realize that the weapons could be the same model, but completely different, but it's all there. The same pattern of jagged edges, the same wound depth, and the same directionality of the wound. It has to be the same."

"Let's go over the cases first." Mac said. Flack and Angell both flipped open their detective's notepads and read from them.

"Chris Jackson, Caucasian male, age 36. At around seven o'clock at night, he was found by his fiancée, Emily Rodriguez, who is most likely not guilty. She got a cake for him from Yousaf Galib's bakery. His alibi checked out, and he was found to be not guilty. He had a TRO against Darnell Owens, whose alibi also checked out. Serena McLaughlin's fingerprint was found on a cup located next to Chris Jackson's cup. I have yet to check her alibi, but she appears to be not guilty. So as of now, we have no suspects." Flack read and closed his notepad. He motioned to Angell that she could start reading her notes.

"Abu Galib, Pakistani male, also age 36. He was found by his boss, Chuck Davidson at around one o'clock in the morning. Mr Davidson had an alibi, which proved to be true. Next-of-kin was Yousaf Galib, who is most likely not guilty. Adam's still processing the evidence, so we also have no suspects." Angell read.

"Danny and I checked into the backgrounds of both Jackson and Galib. Aside from a possible taxi ride in Galib's cab, there's no known connection between them." Lindsay said.

"Okay, so let's assume that the cases are not connected right now." Danny said. Everyone in the room nodded. Reluctantly, Stella nodded as well. They had to make the theory match the evidence, not the other way around.

"Okay, just on a quick semi-unrelated note, how's Hawkes doing?" Angell asked. Everyone in the room turned to Mac, who was at the hospital most recently.

"Well, after Stella left he started having a grand mal seizure," Mac began. None of them were doctors, but they understood the seriousness of the matter. "He then slipped into a coma. However, it's not serious. The doctor said that the longest he should be unconscious is a month." The room then fell into silence. It was difficult having one of your own in a position like that.

"But we're going to catch this guy. We have to." Lindsay said, staying on the optimistic side. Everyone looked at her. Lindsay could see in their eyes that they knew she was right.

They were going to catch this guy.

* * *

**Okay, time setting is around... eight o'clock in the morning? **

**Anything out of place? OOC? Remember, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged; reviews are loved. :)**


	8. Hospitals, Evidence, and Victims

**Hi everyone! I'm very sorry that I haven't written anything. I have gradually been writing, but I couldn't finish it this week because it was very stressful. Thanks for holding on to this story even though its author needs to update quicker.**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight **for reviewing and discussion! **

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY... in a parallel universe. :)**

**A/N (Aly's Note): I haven't written angst or tragedy in a while. I'm beginning to miss it. So I'm going to try to include a note of that in this chapter. Just for old time's sake. :) I might also do some Flack/Angell.... or not. Sorry. Also, sorry for the shortness!**

**Time setting... 08.30-09.00 (in the morning). **

* * *

After the discussion in the layout room, each person went their separate ways. Flack went to go check on Serena McLaughlin's alibi. Angell went back to the precinct to check for a lead on either case. Stella went to the lab to help Adam with the evidence on the Galib case.. Lindsay went to the break room to grab a cup of coffee and scrutinize the pictures that she and Stella took on the Galib case. Mac went back to his office to look over the pictures on the Jackson case. Danny didn't stay in the precinct or the lab. Instead, he went to the Bronx. But he didn't go to the crime scene. He went straight to the hospital where Hawkes was.

Even though the members of the team had repeatedly told him that Hawkes's shooting was _not _his fault, he couldn't help but feel even a minuscule amount of guilt in him. All of the training in the world couldn't prepare you for when it all went down. He was saying the exact same thing in his head during all of the tragedies this team had: Flack being in a bomb blast, Hawkes being trapped underwater, and hell, even himself and Adam being taken hostage by those Irish mobsters. Nothing could ever prepare you for when it all went down.

The New Yorker parked his car in the hospital's parking lot and went to the reception desk. An Asian woman sat there, typing up something on the computer.

"Excuse me, do you know what room Sheldon Hawkes is in?" he asked the receptionist.

"Room 503." she replied, not bothering to look up from her computer screen.

"Thank you." Danny muttered, walking off to the elevator. Once in, he pressed the button for floor five and waited until the elevator reached that floor.

On the fifth floor, Danny walked until he found room 503. Through the glass of the window, he could see Hawkes looking demure and pensive in his sleep. He hesitated for a moment before pushing the door and entering into the room.

A chair—most likely from Mac's previous visit—stood alone near Hawkes's bed. Danny sat in the green chair.

"Um, hey Doc," Danny said. Of course, Hawkes's didn't respond. "How've you been?" He mentally head-slapped himself for asking that question. He already knew the answer.

The detective cleared his throat and continued to speak. "So far all of the leads have turned out to be a dead end. We ain't gonna give up, though. When something happens to one of our own, we gotta catch the bastard who did the thing. We're either gonna catch him or kill him. I'd wanna do the latter, but sadly I can't. You're always welcome to do the killin'." Danny said, cracking a small smile.

Again, Hawkes remained silent. Danny knew what he would say if this was a dialogue. He'd have said, "And let me get arrested? Nah, I think I'm good." Both of them would have laughed and then gone back to whatever they were doing. Danny knew that he wasn't as close to the Doc as he was with Flack, but they were still friends. He still regarded the doctor as a colleague in a both work-related as well as a friendly way. As a friend, it was natural for him to feel a bit guilty. Wasn't it?

* * *

"Hey Adam, have you got anything yet?"

"Not yet," the lab tech replied. "Well, nothing definitive anyway. Most of the stuff you and Lindsay collected turned out to have either the vic's or his brother's prints or DNA on it. I'm not done yet. That was only the first box."

Stella remembered the air freshener can that Chuck Davidson had found in the trash. Her mind quickly flashed back to that moment.

"_I didn't use any air freshener,"_ Chuck Davidson had said._ "I figured it might have nothing to do with anything."_

She also remembered that Lindsay had said that the air of the taxi smelt 'lemony fresh'. Chuck Davidson was wrong. What if the can _had_ 'something to do with anything'?

"Adam, did you process a can of air freshener yet?" Stella asked. Adam, who was looking at the contents of the second box of evidence, looked up and shook his head.

"Not yet. Why?" he answered her question with one of his own.

"I remember Chuck Davidson saying that he didn't remember using a can of air freshener. It might be the killer's or another taxi driver's. I think that this can might either make us or break us. The killer might've finally slipped up." the Greek detective explained to the lab tech.

Adam rummaged through the second evidence box to see if the air freshener was in there. Sure enough, it was. "I'll get right on it." he said.

Stella gave a nod of gratitude. "Sorry, one more question. Have you checked our vic's cell records yet?"

Adam shook his head a second time. "I think his cell phone's still in that evidence box." he said, indicating the open evidence box.

Stella walked over to the box and pulled out the evidence bag containing the cell phone. The black Motorola Razr had minuscule spots of blood around the speaker part of it.

"I'll do that. Thanks Adam." Stella called as she walked out of the room.

* * *

Meanwhile, Flack had just come back from the Barnes and Noble on 86th between Third and Second Avenues. He went there to check on Serena McLaughlin's alibi. It checked out. He walked into the precinct and sat down at his desk, sighing.

"And was he in the bakery from two to four o'clock? Yes? No, no further questions. Thanks for your time." Flack heard Angell hang up the phone and sigh.

He walked over to her desk to ask her what that was. "I was confirming Yousaf Galib's alibi for Chris Jackson's time of death. I already confirmed his alibi for his brother's TOD. He was out of town, in Albany," she said, exasperated with the situation. "I don't get it, Flack. How could a crime scene be so clean? We've come across cleaner crime scenes, but we've always found something. Why is this so different?"

Flack could only look her in the eyes and offer a simple answer. "I don't know."

* * *

Stella was sitting in A/V, looking into the cell phone records of Abu Galib. She found the text message that the brother sent to Galib, indicating that he did not kill his brother. If she were to run a trace on the origin, she was sure to find that it wasn't sent anywhere in the city. Angell had already confirmed that he was in Albany at his brother's TOD. So far the records haven't shown anything of interest.

Stella leaned back in her seat and sighed. Phone records usually shows something definitive. So far, nothing popped out. There were calls made to his brother, calls from his brother, a scattered few phone calls from the boss (which she had confirmed were all about business), and a phone call from someone in Pakistan (most likely a relative). The relative didn't appear in any immigration database either, which meant he was still in Pakistan.

The detective continued scrolling through the list of phone calls and text messages. He didn't seem to have many contacts, therefore, there were not many calls or texts.

After a few minutes, however, Stella found something. A number made repeated calls around two weeks ago. Each call was most likely received by voice mail, because none were ever listed as 'received'. They were all listed as 'missed'. Each call also came five minutes after the other.

_1-212-555-2424. _That number caught Stella's eye. She checked the voice mail and listened to every message left by that number, starting with the most recent.

"Hey Galib. Where's that money? It's been two freakin' months! I gave ya your goods, now give me your money!" The voice of the most recent voice message from 1-212-555-2424 sounded aggravated. What money was he talking about? Stella decided to check the first message left by this mysterious caller.

"Mister Galib? This is Andrew Parkinson. We met on the subway today? Yes, well, I have the things you requested. Meet me at 5th Avenue and 72nd Street on Saturday at one o'clock. You just gotta bring the money. See you then." The first message sounded completely different from the first. The first message sounded rough and brusque, whereas the second sounded almost civil. The detective was curious to find out what those 'goods' were. It could be something harmless, such as souvenirs, or it could be illegal, such as drugs.

Stella listened to the rest of the messages to try to find out what those 'goods' could be. The first few gave her not much to go on. However, after about the fifth message, something caught her—well, ear.

"Galib. 'Ey, you still answering your phone? 'Cuz you still owe me money. Those goods don't come cheap. I got men to cut them up nice and fine for all of my customers. Now those men will quit if I don't give them some green. That green comes from my customer's pocket. That means you. So pay up, or I'll find you." The dial tone signified the end of the call.

The Greek detective cocked her head to the side. 'Cut up' usually meant some form of drug. Possibly cocaine or heroin? She didn't know.

Stella fished her phone out of her pocket and dialed Angell's number. However, she _would_ know after they picked up Andrew Parkinson.

* * *

The interview with those damn coppers hadn't lasted long. The man thanked God for that. If it was long, he would have sat out in front of the precinct for hours, reading the same boring newspaper over and over again. When Serena McLaughlin finally came out of the precinct, he put the newspaper down, pulled his hood on, and followed her.

They walked for a couple of blocks before reaching a subway station. The sign posted right above the steps proclaimed that it was home to the 1, 2, 3 trains, and that particular part of the station only serviced trains going uptown and to the Bronx.

They descended into the subway and waited. Four 1 trains and one 3 train passed by before a 2 finally pulled into the station.

"_This is a Bronx-bound 2 train. The next stop is 42__nd__ Street- Times Square." _the train's automated speaker system recited the phrase cheerfully as the two stepped in. Serena sat down, still oblivious to the man following her. The man didn't bother to sit down, but merely stood somewhere he could keep an eye on her.

When they reached the West Farms Square-East Tremont Avenue station seventeen stops later (he actually bothered to count), the train began to speak again. _"This is a Wakefield bound 2 train. The next stop is East 180__th__ Street." _Serena quickly looked up at the speakers then looked back down at her nails. He knew what that meant. She—_they_—were going to get off at that stop.

Not even a minute had passed when the train began braking and saying, "_This is East 180__th__ Street. Transfer is available to the 5 train." _

They, along with another handful of people, got off at this stop and walked down the stairs (East 180th Street was a part of the elevated subway) to get to solid land. Once out of the subway station, Serena crossed the street to the Bx21's bus stop. Of course, he followed. The steel-blue eyes of the woman didn't take in the mysterious black-hooded figure that seemed to be always behind her. However, he didn't _seem _to be always behind her. He _was_ always behind her.

After a handful of stops on the bus (he didn't bother to count this time), they got off at Unionport Road and walked one block to Amethyst Street. Near the middle of the street she walked up the stairs of a house. He smiled at this. A minute ago, on the bus, he didn't know how he was going to kill Serena in the middle of broad daylight. It was about 09.40 A.M. People were already out and about. There was no way that he was going to get away with murder this early in the morning. Now that she was going into the house, however, his job was about to be made easier. Much, much easier.

Serena took out a key ring and chose one bronze key. She put the key into the keyhole and turned it. The man stayed hidden at the bottom of the stairs, to the side and out of sight. When she went inside, he pounded up the stairs and ran into the house just before the doors closed. Those pounding footsteps were the farthest thing from quiet. As the doors slammed shut, Serena McLaughlin turned her head. The first thing she did was the last thing to ever come out of her mouth again: scream.

* * *

**I find it weird that I was listening to 'What I've Done' by Linkin Park while writing the hospital scene XD. Also, a REMINDER: this story is completely in canon with the exception of Lindsay being pregnant and the situation with Stella and the Greek embassy. Also, I've decided that Flack and Angell aren't together in this. It's hard enough for me having two minor pairings here. I can't really have a third. I'm sorry, but those things didn't happen here. **

**So how was it? OOC? Any spelling or grammar errors? Anything stupid/unnecessary? Review please, and tell me. Constructive criticism is welcome; reviews are loved. :)**


	9. Another Runner

**Surprise! I'm going away to England and France for my school, so I'm giving you my going away present! A chapter! A chapter that I posted _before _I reached the one mark month! I'd also like to thank everyone (whether reviewing or silent) for reading! :)**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own CSI: NY.... only when I'm on Mars. ;)**

**A/N (Aly's Note): So the introduction to peril that you've all been waiting for isn't here yet! I'm so sorry! However, I _will _try to work on it in Europe. I've received my itinerary and it's pretty full (Dinner at the Eiffel Tower and _Wicked _on West End! :D ), but I will try and write. There's also a tiny bit of Smacked in here. **

**Time Setting: 10-11.00 in the morning.**

* * *

The black Avalanche turned with a screech of the tires onto Morris Park Avenue. Sirens blared as they sped to Amethyst Street.

"You're gonna turn left right here on Amethyst." Stella reminded as Mac was preparing to make a left turn. They turned and almost immediately screeched to a halt. Various cop cars lined Amethyst Street. The ME's van was angled toward the cop cars, looking like they were conversing once again. To Mac, it looked like they were discussing another one of the 'Clorox Bottle' murders. Adam gave that nickname to these murders that were bloody, yet were completely clean.

Mac and Stella got out of the Avalanche and slammed the doors shut. The pair got their silver crime scene kits out of the back of the car and made their way to the entrance of the McLaughlin residence. Flack was standing there, talking to a uniform.

"Hey," Flack said when he saw Mac and Stella walking up to him. "Serena McLaughlin. I'm sure you already know what she's about."

Stella nodded. "Yup. Caucasian female, age 31, one prior for tampering with a crime scene. Charges were later dropped. She was a suspect in the murder investigation of Chris Jackson, but was later found to be innocent."

"And the murderer who killed Chris Jackson was the same one who killed her." Mac added, motioning toward the body. From what they could see, the way the murder was set up looked similar to the previous two murders.

"She was found by that UPS guy over there, Harold Hampton. He says that he was delivering a package when he realized that the door was left open. Serena's body was visible from the front door. He also says that he didn't touch anything." Flack read out of his notepad.

"We're going to need that package and his prints and DNA." Mac told him. Flack nodded and went to inform the man.

While Flack was talking to Harold Hampton, Mac and Stella made their way to Serena McLaughlin. The incarnadine stripe of blood that was always there lined the wall and part of the furniture. The two could see the cut that transected her neck. Serena's eyes were left open. If you looked into them, you could see the glazed emerald green and the fear that lay inside that green orb.

Mac opened his kit and snapped on gloves. He noticed that Stella had put on her gloves on sometime before.

"Searching for evidence already? You seem to always be one step ahead of me on this one," Mac told her, amused.

The Greek was confused at first, but quickly realized what he was talking about. "Well Mac, the student must surpass the teacher at one point." she said, continuing to play along with his joke.

"I never taught you." the ex-Marine pointed out.

"Well then, the employee must surpass the boss." Stella said, smiling. As soon as Mac saw her smile, he smiled back. He couldn't help it sometimes. Her smile was infectious.

"Okay employee, then you can start dusting for prints." Mac said. Stella gave a small laugh, then took out her fingerprinting kit. Both CSIs began to search for evidence, if there was any, that could incriminate someone. Hopefully, this scene _wasn't_ a Clorox bottle.

* * *

He hung around the area of her house. He had seen that black Avalanche turn onto Amethyst Street. He knew that meant that they were investigating that murder as well.

He gave up hope on them understanding. They didn't know what it was like to be in his position, to carry the guilt that he felt from a long time ago. Those innocents had been sent away, and it was all because of him.

His original plan was to do three, just like these. However, he planned on _getting _caught.

But when the first moment came, the one with Chris Jackson, he hesitated. He had heard of the horrors of being in jail. He had used his training to leave the place 'spotless'. Apparently, it worked. Here he was, in a small coffee shop near Amethyst Street.

As he was walking back to the Bx21 bus stop, he noticed the curly-haired woman and the dark-haired man getting out of the Avalanche. He didn't really have much of a hatred towards cops, but that pair seemed to annoy him for some reason.

The bus came and he got on. A few stops later, he would stop at the East 180th Street train station and take numerous trains home to Far Rockaway, Queens. During the long ride home, he remembered the wrongs that he did in the past.

Then he smiled. He had remembered leaving the first murder's murder weapon in a trash can as part of his original plan. Hopefully, the CSIs took pictures of that particular can. Hopefully, there was one particular CSI who would look at the picture. He would go there tomorrow and wait diligently. He'd wait until that person came.

That's all he needed to do right now. Wait.

* * *

Angell went to pick up Andrew Parkinson with Lindsay. Stella went with Mac to the McLaughlin murder scene.

They drove to the man's Utica Avenue apartment and parked about half a block away. The two got out their car, slammed the door, and walked that half a block up the block to a red brick apartment building. The front door held gold numbers that proclaimed the number of the building. "520." those numbers read.

"520 Utica Avenue, Apartment #11," Angell read out of her detective's notepad. "This is it." The two detectives walked into the apartment.

While inside, they asked a neighbor where they could find apartment #11. The helpful neighbor told them to go up one flight of stairs. On their left, they would find Andrew Parkinson's apartment.

They walked the one floor up, and sure enough, apartment #11 was right there. Lindsay knocked on the door. However, it made the customary knocking sound, but it also was pushed open by the knock.

They both noticed this and took out their guns. "Mr Parkinson? NYPD!" Lindsay yelled. The two split up and went to opposite sides of the apartment.

Suddenly, there was a rustle and metal clanging. Lindsay and Angell both made their way back to the main room. They could see a male figure—presumably Andrew Parkinson—making his way down the fire escape.

"NYPD, stop!" Lindsay yelled. She went down the fire escape to chase after him, while Angell went around the front to cut him off.

The Montana native went out the window and climbed down the fire escape with her gun still in her hand. The male figure was not far ahead.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" Lindsay shouted, all equanimity leaving her. She had been basically even-tempered throughout these cases, but now her patience was leaving her. The figure showed no signs of stopping.

Once they were both on flat ground, the figure took off running. Lindsay followed suit, thankful that she wore sneakers to work.

However, the CSI didn't have to run far. Angell stood in front of the figure, gun pointed directly at his face. Lindsay stopped and pointed her gun to his back as well.

"Get down on your knees and put your hands in the air." Angell commanded. Realizing that the choice was either on your knees or get shot, the male went down on his knees.

Lindsay kept her gun pointed at him while Angell cuffed him. The detective pulled him up to his feet and asked, "Are you Andrew Parkinson?"

The man nodded. "Yeah?"

Angell led him in the direction of the car. "Then you're coming with us."

* * *

"Hey Adam," Danny called as he walked into the Trace lab. "Didja finish processing the evidence on the Galib case yet?"

Adam turned to face the CSI. "Yeah. But aren't you on the other case?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, but there was another body, same MO," Danny clarified. "The finding of a third body with the same MO told Mac that this was a serial and that the cases are hereby connected."

Adam nodded. "All right, what do you need to know?" he questioned.

Danny put his hands on the layout table and looked at the lab tech. "I need to know whatever you've got." he said.

"Well, I'm still running a can of air freshener that Stella thinks the killer might have used," Adam informed him, looking over the evidence list. "Stella did the vic's cell phone, so you're going to ask her for the info on that. Other than that, I can't really give you much. This crime scene was a Clorox _and _bleach bottle."

The New York native sighed. "Nothin's going our way with this case, is it?" he asked.

Adam shook his head. "I guess not." he admitted, voice filled with regret.

Danny nodded. "All right, thanks. Just a heads-up, Mac and Stella are gonna be coming back with boxes of evidence any time now." he said. Adam nodded as Danny left the room.

* * *

"So you wanna tell us why you ran?" Angell asked. She and Lindsay sat in the interrogation room with a cuffed Andrew Parkinson.

"I was just outside my door when I heard you talking to my neighbor. I didn't know what it was about, so I hid at first. Then, when you guys separated to opposite sides of my place, I ran out the window." Andrew answered.

"Did you run because you thought we were here about Abu Galib's death?" Lindsay interrogated. Andrew's brown eyes widened in shock.

"Galib's d-dead?" he asked, voice slightly tremulous. Angell nodded.

"Dammit!" he said, slamming his palm down on the silver interrogation table. Both Angell and Lindsay looked at the palm that now lay on the table. "He owed me money." Andrew hissed under his breath.

"You seem angry," Angell remarked. "Why's that?"

Andrew stared at her as if she should've known the answer. "Well, it's probably the fact that he died before paying off his debt to me!" he said, disgruntled.

"So did you kill him because he didn't pay his debt? You've called him repeatedly for two weeks," Lindsay said, handing him the papers that listed Abu Galib's phone records. The calls made by Andrew Parkinson were highlighted with a yellow marker.

Andrew Parkinson leaned forward in his seat, an annoyed expression on his face. "Look, I may have hated the man, but I didn't kill him." he stated firmly.

"Tell us about the debt that Galib owed you," Angell said, folding her hands and resting them on the table. "Was it a debt for drugs?"

Parkinson darted his sparrow-brown eyes down and to the left, a sure sign that he was lying. "N-no." he stammered. Angell gave him an 'Oh please' look.

"Do you honestly think we're going to fall for that lame excuse?" Angell asked. "You darted your eyes down and to the left. Parkinson, I've been doing this for a while. I know how to tell the signs of lying."

"You wanna try again?" Lindsay asked, her chocolate-brown eyes boring into his own sparrow-brown.

Andrew sighed and folded his hands on the table similar to how Angell had hers. "Yes. The money was for drugs. I run a heroin factory down in the Brooklyn ghetto. Galib had heard of me somehow and bought quite a bit of my stuff. He owes, well owed, me a large sum of money."

"When was the last time you saw Galib?" Angell questioned, writing all of the information down.

"The last time I saw him was in Central Park giving him the goods. The only time I saw him before that was when he came up to me and asked me about them." Andrew replied. "Now, am I good to go?"

"Not just yet," Lindsay told him, standing up and opening her crime scene kit. "Stand up and move to the side of the table." Andrew looked confused, but obliged.

Lindsay just finished putting on her gloves. She took out a cotton swab and held it in front of his mouth. "Now open your mouth." she commanded. He did so, not knowing that Lindsay was taking his DNA.

She put the swab away and then took out a fingerprinting kit. "Now, we'll need your prints. If you object, there's always room for a warrant." Andrew sighed and reluctantly gave her his hands.

After the printing was done, Andrew turned to face both detectives. "Now can I go?" he demanded impatiently.

Angell got up, a smirk forming on her features. "One more thing. Come over here." she said. Andrew sighed a frustrating sigh, but went to the homicide detective.

As soon as the man reached her side, she grabbed his wrists, pulled out her cuffs, and cuffed his hands together.

"Hey, what the—?!" he exclaimed.

"Andrew Parkinson, you're under arrest for drug possession and drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

* * *

Stella and Mac scoured the house of Serena McLaughlin for evidence. Stella took downstairs while Mac took upstairs. So far, they took mostly the usual not-so-suspicious-but-necessary evidence, for there was no incriminating evidence so far.

Stella then went into the downstairs bathroom and scanned it for evidence. When she got to the sink, she noticed something that seemed out-of-place with the relatively clean marble sink. There was a small speck of red water near the drain.

The look on the Greek's face went from serious to inquisitive as she pulled out a cotton swab. She swabbed that drop of reddish water, careful not to send it down the drain. After she swabbed, she took out her phenolphthalein solution and took the dropper. She dropped a couple of drops; not too little, but just enough to get a reaction. The swab turned a faint reddish-pink color.

"Hey Mac!" Stella yelled. "Come over here! I think I got something!"

Mac came rushing up the stairs. "What, what's up?" he asked, not at all out of breath from his run up the stairs.

His partner showed him the swab. "Check it out for yourself." she said.

Mac scrutinized the now reddish-pink cotton swab. "Blood." he stated. Stella nodded.

"This proves that the killer _does _wash himself down after every kill. I mean, murders like these definitely _aren't _clean, so he had to get some blood on at least his covered hands." Stella said. "Let's just say, as a hypothesis, that he wears leather gloves. Blood is like a liquid, which doesn't stick very well onto leather. So our guy comes into the bathroom to rinse the blood of his gloves. But, he believes that he leaves nothing behind in the bathroom, like the first two crime scenes. However, he didn't realize this little drop of water lying in the sink."

The ex-Marine nodded with approval. "That's a great hypothesis, Stella. It may even be true. However, in terms of a suspect, we aren't going to get far with that. The blood will most likely match up with our vic's, Serena McLaughlin's."

Stella sighed in frustration. "Dammit. I should've realized that. So where do we go from here, Mac?"

Mac looked at her. "The place we always go, even if it doesn't help us. The evidence."

* * *

**So how was it? I kinda wrote this under pressure, so it may not be as good as it should. But, as always, I welcome constructive criticism! Also, I love reviews. :) **

**Have a happy Easter!**


	10. Danger in the Crime Lab

**Hi there everyone! I know I'm extremely horrible at updating things, but thanks so much for hanging on there! So here's the introduction to peril that's long over due! I don't think I'm good at this sort of thing, so it'd be greatly appreciated if you all review and tell me!**

**Disclaimer: I would own CSI: NY... if I was Jerry Bruckheimer. :)**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight **for reviewing!**

**Time Setting: I guess around... 14.00-14.30**

**A/N: Sorry if it doesn't seem very perilous for an 'intro to peril'. XD**

* * *

_Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep! _Lindsay quickly glanced at the computer. She had just arrived to help Adam with processing the evidence from the two previous Clorox murders and from the McLaughlin case. She just finished examining at the outside of the air freshener can for evidence. Sadly, nothing turned up. The Montana native then put the can back in the evidence bag and put the bag in the box. Adam was already starting on the evidence from Stella and Mac's new case.

_Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep! _This time, both Lindsay and Adam stared at the computer. "What's wrong with that thing?" Lindsay asked. It normally never beeped that many times to give them results.

"I dunno," Adam replied. "Let's see what's in it." The two walked over to the computer and read the trace analysis of the contents inside.

"The sample contained the four basic elements of air freshener: formaldehyde, petroleum distillates, p- dichlorobenzene, and aerosol propellants," Adam read. Then he spotted an exclamation point near the right-hand corner of the screen. "What's this?" The lab tech clicked on the exclamation point.

Adam's eyes scanned the screen quickly and widened when he read the other ingredient. "Oh no," he said, a look of worry on his face.

Lindsay, who didn't read the results yet, immediately became concerned and scanned the computer screen as well. Her brown eyes also went wide as they read the results.

"The freshener's been laced with thallium. It's radioactive."

* * *

Stella Bonasera sat in the layout room looking over pictures from all three cases. She started with the pictures from the Chris Jackson case, scrutinizing every last pixel of every picture.

The first couple of pictures didn't help much; they were just pictures of the crime scene and the body. Then, she came across pictures of the perimeter of the building.

"That's the entrance of the building," the detective murmured to herself. She put that picture down and picked up one of the building at the corner.

"That's the corner of the building," she murmured. Stella scrutinized that picture just as she did to all the others. However, something caught her eye.

She brought the picture closer to her face and looked at the garbage can on the corner. It was the type that looked kind of like a fence and held a clear plastic bag. Within that fence was something of paramount importance. Stella checked other pictures of the corner and made sure that she didn't see something else.

No, she did something important. Within that garbage fence was a bloody knife.

* * *

"Hey Flack," Mac said as he sauntered to the homicide detective's desk. "I think I may have someone for you to pick up."

The blue-eyed detective looked up at the senior CSI as he heard him talking. "Who do you got? I'll look him up for any records."

"I did remember seeing a picture of Serena and this guy in the garbage can. On the back it said 'Serena and Michael, forever and always'. I just thought that it was a boyfriend or something, so I left the matter alone for that moment," Mac began. "Then I checked the answering machine messages before I left. There were various messages all saying the same thing: that Michael Vocter didn't understand why Serena McLaughlin was ignoring him. He left repeated messages on her phone, so he might have been a borderline stalker. Check him out, see if he has any priors. After that, call Danny and bring him with you to pick him up."

Flack nodded. "Sounds good. See you later." Mac walked away after that.

The detective then entered Michael Vocter's name into the database. Michael Vocter, thirty-five year old half-British, half-German male. He had a couple of parking tickets, but most people had them, so Flack originally decided to look over those. However, when he saw the places where he was ticketed, he took back his decision and looked at each one of the tickets.

Every single one of the tickets was issued within a five mile radius of Serena McLaughlin's house. He was definite stalker material.

Flack decided to dig up more information on Michael Vocter. It turns out that there was a restraining order against him after his many parking ticket violations. Serena McLaughlin was the one who initiated the restraining order. He was to stay 100 feet away from her at all times. If he was mad about the restraining order, this gave Michael Vocter motive.

He did some more digging and and found that Vocter's bank records stated that he recently bought a house close to Serena McLaughlin's. Flack shook his head when he read that the house was within 100 feet away from her house. Assuming that he broke his restraining order, he would have had the perfect opportunity to commit the crime.

As the homicide detective dug further into Michael Vocter's records, he found that he graduated with a degree in criminal justice/forensic science. However, Vocter soon realized that his dream job was a chef. As of now, he was currently employed as one. He could have used his training to clean up the crime. Also, as a chef, he would have access to knives. This provided the means for the crime.

There it was. Means, motive, and opportunity. The three things needed to convict a person. It was quite possible that Michael Vocter killed Serena McLaughlin. However, he could've also been the killer of Abu Galib and/or Chris Jackson.

As Flack remembered what Mac said about the answering machine, he checked his phone records, both for the cell phone and home phone. The homicide detective couldn't believe what he saw. Every single day, starting from two weeks after the restraining order was filed, multiple calls were placed to Serena McLaughlin's house every day. The guy was breaking the terms of the restraining order, which clearly stated that Michael Vocter could have no contact with Serena.

After searching through multiple databases and sites, he found connections to the two other Clorox Killer victims. It appears that Chris Jackson, Michael Vocter, and Serena McLaughlin were high school and college friends. Also, Vocter and Galib were part of a Manhattan YMCA basketball team.

There you have it. Michael Vocter was connected to all three of the previous murders _and_ he had the means, motive, and opportunity to commit the murders. As of currently, Michael Vocter was most likely their perp.

Flack looked up the address of Michael Vocter and saw that it actually was within 100-200 feet of Serena McLaughlin's house. He called Danny up to relay the information to him.

"_Messer_," he answered.

"Hey Danny," Flack said. "I've been doing some research on a guy Mac thought was just some guy that Serena was repeatedly ignoring. Turns out that he's a stalker ex-boyfriend who is a chef, has training in forensic science, _and _has connections to the other two victims. This guy seems perfect for the crime."

"_This guy does seem perfect. You got an address?_" Danny asked.

"Yup, 900 Barnes Avenue, only a couple blocks away from Serena's place," Flack replied.

"_All right, I'll be at the precinct in a few. I really hope this is the break we've been looking for," _Danny said and hung up.

Flack hoped the exact same thing.

* * *

"Dammit!" Lindsay exclaimed as she evacuated everybody from the room that they were in. When Adam tested the freshener's contents, he had to spray some, releasing the radioactivity into the air. That put everyone in the room at risk.

Adam rushed over to her side. "I've notified the CDC. They should be here soon. You said the air freshener was sprayed inside Galib's taxi. Who else went into the taxi besides you?"

"I know Stella did," Lindsay remembered. "I think Angell might've gone inside as well."

"All right, I'll call Stella, you call Angell. Get them in here. If they are contaminated, we can't let anybody else get infected," Adam instructed, not even looking at Lindsay while speaking. He was already speed-dialing Stella and waiting for her to pick up.

Lindsay had to admit that she'd never seen Adam take charge like this. It was good to see him go from the one who took orders to the one who gave the orders. She took out her phone and dialed Angell's number.

"_Detective Angell," _she answered.

"Hey Jess, it's Lindsay," the Montana native said. A hint of a worried tone laced her voice.

"_Lindsay, what's up_?" Angell asked, curious as to why the CSI sounded worried.

"I have two quick questions. First, where are you right now?" she began. "Second, did you go into Abu Galib's taxi when you first arrived on the scene?"

"_I'll answer both of your questions if you answer one of mine. First, I'm at the precinct. Second, yes, I did go into Galib's taxi. Lindsay, you know that I had to. It's protocol at a scene," _Angell replied. "_Now for my question. Why do you need this? There something wrong?"_

Lindsay exhaled and said, "The air freshener used to freshen up the air in Galib's cab was laced with thallium. As a precaution, you need to come over to the Trace lab and get checked out to make sure that you're not radioactive."

There was silence for a short moment. Then, Angell said, "_All right, I'll be there as soon as I can._" After that, she hung up.

Lindsay saw Stella enter the room and start talking to Adam about the whole situation. Five minutes later, Angell came rushing into the room.

All four co-workers were worried about their status as the CDC workers came an hour later. Each one of them was tested and each one of them was clean.

"The freshener may have been laced with thallium, but the amount wasn't enough to be radioactive. It was large enough that your scanners picked up on it, but it's not enough to kill you. You're all free to go," one of the workers said.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief as the CDC left the room. "Thank God for that," he mumbled as he walked back to the evidence boxes. Angell also left and went back to the precinct.

"It's good that we're all all right," Stella said. "I'll talk to you later." She walked out of the room and almost walked right into Mac.

"Mac, hey," the Greek said.

"Stella, how's everything in there?" he inquired. "Lindsay, Adam, and Angell; are they okay? Are _you _okay?"

Stella nodded. "We're all fine and all clean. Lindsay and Adam went back to the evidence and Angell headed back to the precinct. I'm going to head back up to the Bronx to check out something at Chris Jackson's place. I'll keep you posted, all right?"

Mac smiled, relieved that his team was okay. "All right, I'll hear from you soon." Stella smiled back and walked to the elevator. Little did she know that checking up on things wasn't the best idea...

* * *

_Boom boom boom_! was the sound Flack's fists made as he forcefully knocked on Michael Vocter's door. "Michael Vocter! NYPD! Open up! We have a warrant!" No answer came from inside the house.

Flack looked at Danny and they both drew their guns. Flack counted down to three with his fingers and then kicked open the door.

"Michael Vocter, NYPD!" Danny yelled. At first, the house was silent. Then, out of nowhere, gunshots rang out. Both Flack and Danny ducked as they tried to identify the source of the gunfire.

_Bang bang! _went more gunshots from nowhere. They realized that they were coming from the hall leading to the backyard.

Danny ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head. Then he took a shot down the hallway, hoping to hit the shooter. The bullet broke the glass at the back of the house and flew through the window.

Both men slowly made their way toward the back of the house and toward the source of the shooting, taking cover occasionally.

_Bang bang! _More shots were fired from the back as shots were fired from the front. As they reached the entrance of the hallway, Flack edged his way down the hall. No shots were being fired at the moment, so Danny went down the hall as well.

Down they walked, Flack on the left and Danny on the right. They both tried to look at the back room without sticking their heads out of the hallway. Flack could see a man hiding behind a piece of furniture not too far from where they were standing now. He motioned to Danny that the man was on his side and the CSI nodded.

"Michael Vocter! We know where you are! Cease fire and drop your weapon!" Danny yelled. They both tried to get as close to the wall as possible, because they knew that Vocter would try to shoot again.

And sure enough, they were right. But, instead of doing nothing, they both took a shot as Vocter stood to take his. The two cops were quicker that the civilian at shooting. Flack got his leg and Danny got his arm.

Michael Vocter screamed in pain as the bullets entered his flesh. He went down on his knees, putting the gun down as he went.

Both Flack and Danny walked to Vocter, Flack with handcuffs out and Danny still holding his weapon.

"You shouldn't have tried to do that, Vocter. I'm hurt. I just wanted to talk to you." Flack said as he handcuffed him gently knowing that his arm was injured, but tough because he was a criminal.

Danny put away his weapon and took out his radio. "This is Detective Messer. Requesting medical assistance at 900 Barnes Avenue..."

* * *

He was there when she arrived. The curly-haired one. He expected her to come. But where was the serious-faced man? He was normally with her, but where was he now?

He looked around the area and checked to see if anyone was there. He chuckled to himself when he realized his stupidity. There were multiple events happening today. The new Yankee Stadium opening, a parade in the city, a concert in Central Park, a sale at Bloomingdale's, series premieres for new summer TV shows. Most people would either be holed up at home or out by now.

He was right. There was almost no one around the area. So he put on his Sanitation Department uniform and walked down from the rooftop he was on. One was better than none.

* * *

Stella parked her car near the corner of Chris Jackson's apartment and walked to the garbage can that she saw the knife in. Hopefully the Sanitation Department didn't clear it out yet.

As she approached the garbage can, she noticed a man in a Sanitation Department uniform walking to the garbage can and pulling out the bag.

"Whoa there, hold on," she called to the man. She found it suspicious that he had a satchel around his neck, but she decided to ignore that fact. She'd met more eccentric people in her day.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked.

She pulled out her badge. "NYPD. I need you to put down that bag, sir." The man obliged and put down the bag. The CSI snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and searched through the bag until she found the knife.

When she found it, she pulled out a folded paper evidence bag from her suit jacket pocket and started to put the knife in. However, she was hit from behind with something. She wobbled, dropped the knife, and turned around. It was the sanitation worker.

His mouth turned up into a wicked smile. "I'm sorry, Detective, but I can't let you have that. You see, it has my fingerprint on it, and I don't think you taking it would go in my favor."

Even though Stella had a bit of a throbbing headache, it was easy to put two and two together. "You're the Clorox Bottle killer," she stated.

He smiled and reached for the knife. "Oh, is that what they call me at the precinct? That's a nice and creative name. I like it." His hands almost closed around the knife when Stella lunged at him.

"Well then, you're not getting this knife!" she yelled, taking the knife from him. He grabbed her and started throwing punches. She did the same, trying to preserve the evidence while doing so.

The fight didn't last long, because the man grabbed her from behind and put his arm around her neck. He pulled a damp cloth out of his satchel.

Stella then realized what the satchel was for. It was evidence transportation. The satchel and the hand that the knife was in were close, so she was able to cut a relatively large hole in the bottom of the bag without him noticing.

"Like I said before, Detective, I can't let you have the knife," the man said, and pushed the cloth against her mouth and nose.

As he pressed the cloth harder, Stella felt the last wisp of breath she had escape her and mingle with the air around them. She slumped unconscious and dropped the knife to the floor. The man took out keys from his pocket and pressed a button. The black SUV right near them beeped. He picked up Stella, tied up her arms and legs, put tape around her mouth, and placed her in the back seat.

"Can't have you running to anybody about this," he said as he closed the door. Then, he picked up the knife and put it in his satchel, oblivious to the gaping hole in the bottom.

He smiled another malicious smile before walking to the car. However, before he got in, the knife dropped out of the hole and onto the pavement. He didn't even notice as the black SUV sped away into the day.

* * *

Just as the black SUV sped up with an unconscious CSI in the back, an unconscious CSI was regaining life.

Sheldon Hawkes lay in his bed at St. Barnabas Hospital, unconscious. However, as the clock changed from 16.00 to 16.01, his brown eyes fluttered open and he took in a welcome breath of fresh (well, hospital fresh) air.

He had no idea that another CSI just took his place.

* * *

**Well? What do you think? As for the events that the man mentioned, I don't really know if those happened on the same day. I just needed to put it there. Also, I'm sorry that it wasn't very perilous.**

**Please don't be afraid to tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome; reviews are loved. Remember that Ben & Jerry's! :)**


	11. La Stella Mancante

****

I know that all of my excuses are school-related, but it _**is **_**all school's fault. I had to put all of my energy into my final exams, two of which  
were state tests. I also know that it's mid-July. I've had to go to numerous job interviews and complete my summer homework. -_- I hope to focus more on writing and not procrastinate. XP**

Chapter title: 'La Stella Mancante' means 'The Missing Star.' Stella. Get it? I don't speak Italian, so if I'm wrong... don't judge me please. XD I got it off of an online translator.

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm not even going to say it.**

**Thanks **to lily moonlight**, **Hcainefan123**, **afrozenheart412**, and **peonywinx** for reviewing!**

**Time setting: Hm... let's see... I dunno, actually. How about one to three hours after the previous chapter, around 15.30-18.00? I don't know.**

**A/N: You know how they have those mirrors in interrogation rooms? The ones where the suspect can't see the people behind them, but the detectives and whoever can see the suspect? Are those one-way or two-way mirrors? I'm going to go with one way. Please correct me in a review. XD**

**Also, I realized that I never did an autopsy scene for Serena McLaughlin's body. I'll do that here. Sorry about that. I've been feeling off since the last time I posted, and it's really affecting my writing.**

* * *

Hawkes looked around him. He saw a chair next to his bed. He looked around the room and noticed the pastel green of the walls. He looked down and saw that he was in a hospital gown.

'_Hospital...'_ he thought. '_How did I get here?_' He leaned forward a little bit to make himself more comfortable and winced. A sharp pain pulsed in his abdomen.

He remembered now. Danny and he were in a shooting outside the Jackson crime scene. But it seemed so distant...

Why did it seem so far away? Hawkes shook his head. What day was it? He didn't know. How long had he been here? A day? A week? A month?

And the case.... what was going on with that? How far had they gotten with it? Did they catch the guy yet?

Hawkes pushed a button that called for a nurse. Maybe the nurse could tell him what was going on.

* * *

"So Vocter," Flack began, circling the interrogation table. Danny sat in a chair opposite the suspect. "Why were you hiding in your house with a loaded gun?"

Michael Vocter just stared straight ahead at nothing in particular and replied, "Because he was coming after me."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "_He_? Who was comin' after you?"

Vocter continued to stare straight ahead. His grey eyes seemed to pass through Danny. Flack took the seat next to the CSI and looked at the suspect. "He doesn't reveal his name. He follows me everywhere."

"Are any of these people 'him'?" Flack asked, pulling out pictures of every male person related to the three cases.

Vocter studied each person carefully and shook his head. "N-no. I don't know any of those people."

"Can you give us a hint on what 'he' looks like? Eye color, hair color, height? Anything we can go on?" Danny questioned, looking their suspect straight in the eye. Vocter's eyes didn't meet anything except for his own reflection on the one-way mirror.

"I-I can't tell you anything. He'll kill you too." Vocter replied shakily. His whole body shook slightly.

"Yeah? Try us," Flack retorted.

"He's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me," Vocter murmured to himself.

"Tell us something about the guy!" Flack yelled impatiently. If he could, he would've already arrested Vocter for irritating an officer.

Vocter's grey eyes got wider as he uttered two small words in the form of a whisper. "He's here."

Flack and Danny looked at each other, confused. The only people in the room were the two detectives, Vocter, and the uniformed officer at the door. No one else was there.

"Where is he?" Danny inquired, trying to keep his voice calm even though Vocter had irritated him.

Their suspect's wide eyes came to rest on the metal table in front of him. He tried to stare at his blurred reflection on the interrogation table. "He's behind the mirror."

That confused the CSI. As far as he knew, no one was behind the mirror watching their interrogation. When he looked at Flack, he could tell that his friend was thinking the same thing.

"I'll go check it out," the homicide detective told them, standing up and leaving the room. Danny looked at the guy, trying to figure out if he was insane or not.

Moments later, Flack came back. "There was no one behind the mirror." he reported.

"He's there. He hasn't left. He's g-gonna kill me, he's coming for me..." Vocter said as he trailed off.

"Flack, I think this guy's showing signs of schizophrenia," Danny informed him of his observations.

"Why do you think so?" Flack inquired.

"Well, no one can see through those mirrors, so how did he know that 'he' was there?" Danny replied. "He's hallucinating, that's one of the signs of schizophrenia."

"His record never showed anything about schizophrenia, though," Flack pointed out.

"Maybe he developed it after Serena left him. Let's see if we can get that out of him." Danny said. He looked at Vocter, who was still murmuring to himself.

"Michael," Danny began. "When did you and Serena break up?"

"Two weeks ago." he stated, not looking up from the interrogation table.

"And when was the last time you went to the doctor's or the hospital?" the CSI continued.

"A month ago." he replied.

"Schizophrenia can be triggered by disturbing experiences. Maybe, he was so connected to Serena that when she left him, he found that traumatic. I don't know why, but maybe in his world, that break-up was a disturbing experience." Danny said.

"All right. He says that he never saw any of the people that we showed him, except for Serena, who was his ex. Let's just ask him where he was at the time of the three victims' times of death and then we can call a psych doctor in to see if Mr Stalker here is a schizophrenic."

"Mr Vocter," Flack began calmly. "Where were you between the hours of two to four PM yesterday?"

"I-I was in Albany with my brother. I didn't get back until really late, two o'clock in the morning." Vocter replied, still looking down at the table. Flack wrote that down. He was away for both Chris Jackson's and Abu Galib's times of death.

"What about nine o'clock this morning?" asked Flack.

"I left early went to a gun store in Brooklyn to buy a gun and protect me from him. Didn't get back until noon." Vocter said. Then his eyes widened once more. "He's going to kill me..."

Flack sighed. "The more we talk to this guy, the more convinced I get that he's _not _the killer. Look at him. His hands are shaking and he thinks someone's following him all the time. I don't think he'd have enough patience to clean up an entire crime scene." he told Danny.

"I think you're right, Flack," Danny said. "I don't think this guy did it either."

"I'm going to call a psych doctor from Bellevue and see if he or she can evaluate our patient's status. Otherwise, I think we're done here." Flack said, whipping out his phone and walking back to his desk.

Danny nodded and walked in the direction of the exit.

He needed a coffee.

* * *

Stella Bonasera awoke to the sound of a car's engine turning off. She was in the back seat of a car, tied up with her mouth taped shut.

She was lying on her back, so she was able to see out of the window. From the lack of many skyscrapers, Stella was able to deduce that she wasn't in Manhattan anymore. Also, from what she could see, her surroundings looked more like an oceanfront commuter town than a city.

Stella heard a subway train brake nearby. The sound was so crisp and clear that it could've been right next to her location.

'_Elevated subway rails_', she mused to herself. That fact meant she was most likely not in Manhattan. She could be in the Bronx, Brooklyn, or Queens.

Her captor left the driver's seat and opened the left side backseat door. He put his right hand on the door frame and spoke to her quietly.

"I'm going to untie your hands and feet and take the tape off of your mouth. We're going to walk to that building over there," he told her, motioning to a brick building behind him. "You try any funny business and it'll be the last business you do. Got it?"

Stella nodded. She didn't bother to argue with him. It was possible that he had a firearm in the car.

Her captor reached for her ankles and untied them, doing the same with her wrists after. He motioned for her to pull the tape off by herself, which she did. Even though she pulled it off gingerly, it still hurt to pull the sticky adhesive off of her tender lips.

After she got out of the car, he shut the door and pointed to a brick building. You didn't need to be a genius to figure out what that meant. That building was where they were going. To her left she noticed a subway sign that read 'Far Rockaway–Mott Avenue'. The letter 'A' in a blue circle told readers that you could take the A train from that particular station. The sign verified her assumption of being out of the city. She was in Far Rockaway, Queens, a far way from Manhattan. It was so far from Manhattan that it bordered Long Island.

As she and her captor walked into the building, Stella could see that it was abandoned. There were construction tools discarded around the floor and hardened plaster scattered in grey circles on the newspaper-covered floor. Ladders still stood around the room, and random plastic was falling off of the walls.

Her captor shut the door behind them. He walked right past her and went to sit on an old wooden chair.

"Just go sit anywhere. There's a bathroom in the back. The back or the bathroom have no windows, so don't bother escaping." he said, pulling out a cell phone and dialling a number.

As she sat down, Stella hoped that Mac and the others could find a piece of evidence leading them to her. She hoped that the evidence didn't fail them.

* * *

"Adam," Mac said as he walked into the room. "Please tell me you found something useful out of our evidence. Flack just confirmed Michael Vocter's alibi, leaving us suspectless."

Adam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mac. I'm not getting anything from any of the evidence yet. I still have to process the stuff from the McLaughlin house, so we might get something from there. Hopefully."

Mac sighed heavily. This case was taking a toll on everyone. "Okay, as soon as you're done, call me." he said.

As he walked through the hallway, his phone rang. The detective checked the caller ID. It was Sid.

"Yeah, Sid. What do you have?" he asked.

"_I finished the autopsy of Serena McLaughlin_," replied Sid.

"All right, I'll be right down.," Mac said. He turned around and went in the direction of the elevator. Hopefully the autopsy showed something.

* * *

"Let me guess," Mac said as he walked into the morgue. "Exsanguination due to the transection of the carotid artery."

"Correct! You have just won the million-dollar prize," Sid joked as they made their way to the slab that Serena McLaughlin was lying on.

"Why'd it take so long for an autopsy?" Mac inquired.

"After I did the Galib autopsy, we had an influx of bodies from a drug bust downtown. There were four bodies, so it took a while. Well, better late than never." Sid replied. Mac nodded.

"Anything strange about the body?" he asked.

Sid shook his head. "The cut had the same jaggedness and wound pattern as the other victims. She also recently had her appendix removed."

"Anything else, Sid?" Mac asked.

"Ah," Sid said as he remembered something. "I remembered seeing some small grey flecks in her hair before I washed the body." The medical examiner handed Mac a petri dish filled with some grey flecks.

Mac held the dish up to the light and scrutinized it. "Any idea what they are?"

"Well, that's your job." Sid said, cracking a small smile. Mac chuckled and brought the evidence back upstairs.

* * *

Lindsay caught up with Mac as he got off the elevator. "Mac," she said. "I went to the layout room to find Stella, but she wasn't there. She left the pictures from the cases there, and guess what picture was on top." She handed Mac a picture or a garbage can.

Mac looked at her, missing what she was showing him. "Am I missing the point?"

"Look closer," Lindsay urged him. Mac analyzed the picture. He saw a bloody knife hidden within the garbage can.

"It's a bloody knife," Mac observed. "Its edges are serrated. Is this the murder weapon?'

Lindsay nodded. "It's a possibility."

"This must be what Stella went up to check for," Mac mused. "Come to think of it, she went up a while ago. She hasn't come back yet. I wonder what's taking her so long?"

"I'll call her and ask what's keeping her," the Montana native offered, pulling out her cell phone and dialling Stella's number.

_"Hi, you've reached Stella Bonasera. Please leave your name and number after the tone._" Lindsay flipped her phone shut.

"Straight to voicemail," she informed her boss.

Mac's expression turned dark. "This isn't like her. She wouldn't have stayed this long without calling. Lindsay, let's give this to Adam and head uptown. I think something's happened to her."

* * *

**So they found out she's missing! Read and review please! Oh, and please criticise me. I really need the criticism for this chapter. Please&Thank you!**

**Oh, as an apology for not updating in the longest time (please don't make me feel guiltier than I already do. XP), I'm gonna give you an angsty Adam one-shot soon. **

**Aly x3**


	12. You Might Wanna Hurry

**Hi there everyone! So guess what? I actually had the chapter ready for you two weeks after my last update, but when I was trying to save my progress to my computer, **_**boom**_**. My computer crashed! Isn't that lovely? The first time I had a good update time! And I had a crash. -_- I apologize for my horrible computer. DX**

**Thanks to **peonywinx, lily moonlight, **and **afrozenheart412 **for reviewing! Extra thanks to **afrozenheart412 **for the constructive criticism and a suggestion for Sid and Adam!**

**Disclaimer: Aly no own. :)**

**Time setting: I can't think about time anymore, so you can choose XD**

* * *

The tires screeched as Mac swung the steering wheel left to get onto 183rd Street. They screeched again a short moment after as he slammed on the brakes. As they came to a halt, Mac switched off the engine and pulled out the keys.

The two CSIs got out of the car, hands on their individual weapons just in case. Once they saw that no one was in the vicinity, they pulled on gloves and started searching for clues that would lead them to Stella.

"There are signs of a struggle," Lindsay called to Mac. Mac looked over to where his colleague was standing. The garbage can that held the knife previously was turned over.

"He most likely subdued her using chloroform," Mac added. There was a faint whiff of chloroform in the air. The ex-Marine then crossed the street to get a view of the scene from the other side. Right after he crossed the street, a bright blue sports car came speeding by, music blasting from its speakers.

"_Four letter word just to get me along  
__It's a difficulty and I'm biting on my tongue and I  
I keep stalling, keeping me together  
People around gotta find something to say now_," the singer sang.

Mac stared at its retreating form as the music faded away. Then he diverted his attention to where Lindsay was now snapping pictures of the fallen garbage can. The streetlights flickered on and something glinted in the light. It was lying in front of the gutter near where Lindsay stood. He walked back across the street and squatted to examine the object.

It was a knife. It was a _bloody_ knife.

"Lindsay!" he called. "I found the murder weapon!"

Lindsay walked over to her boss, camera in hand. Before Mac could pick it up, Lindsay had to take a couple of pictures of it. Then, careful not to send it down the gutter, Mac picked it up.

"The knife's serrated, like Sid said it would be," Lindsay pointed out the jagged edges of the knife. She examined it more closely. She noticed a brown thread caught in the hilt of the knife.

"There's a thread caught in the hilt," she told Mac, pointing her camera at it and taking a picture. Mac took out his tweezers from his suit jacket pocket and pulled out the thread. He held it close to his face as he examined it.

"The thread is a little bit on the thick side," he noted. "It might be from a bag or satchel." Mac pulled out a little evidence bag and put the thread it. He handed it to Lindsay, who sealed it and put it in her kit.

"You know, we might find epithelials in the hilt too," Lindsay reasoned as Mac put the knife in a box.

"The killer was wearing gloves," Mac pointed out as he labeled the box.

"Yeah, but there's a possibility that he was wearing latex gloves. These gloves are pretty thin, so a part of his skin might have gotten pinched off as well," Lindsay said.

"It's possible," Mac agreed. "I'll get it processed first thing when we get back."

After the two searched for evidence, Mac's phone rang. "Taylor," he answered.

"_Detective Taylor_?" a female voice asked. Mac recognized it.

"Doctor Laurent, how are you? Is there any news on Doctor Hawkes?" he asked. Lindsay recognized the name of the doctor and looked at Mac. She hoped to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

"_Yes there is, actually. Very good news. I'm glad to tell you that Doctor Hawkes is indeed awake. You can send somebody to visit, but then we will have some precautionary tests to make sure that Doctor Hawkes is as good as new_," Doctor Laurent replied.

"That's great. Thank you, Doctor," Mac hung up.

"So what's the news?" Lindsay asked as they walked to the car.

Mac pulled open the driver-side door. "Hawkes is awake," he told her.

Lindsay smiled. "That's brilliant!" The engine started up and they drove off.

"Only we can't visit him just yet. Protocol states that we can't make any stopovers while transporting evidence back to the lab," Mac reminded her.

"Even though the hospital is right there?" Lindsay said, pointing at the back of the car with her thumb. She already knew the answer, but she was happy to hear that her friend was awake and wanted to visit.

"Even though it's right there." Mac said firmly. He knew Lindsay just wanted to visit. He wanted to see Hawkes too, but the evidence to catching who shot him was important too.

"Call Sid. I think he just got off duty and would like to see him too. Maybe he could bring Adam. He's been processing evidence for God knows how long. He needs the break," Mac said.

Lindsay pulled out the phone and dialed Sid.

Right before she pressed the 'Call' button, Mac said, "Lindsay."

Lindsay looked up from her phone and looked at her boss. "Yeah?"

"Tell them about Stella as well. They should know. The whole team should know. She's their friend, too," Mac said. Lindsay looked at him for a second and nodded. She chatted with Sid and then called Danny to tell him the news. Mac's attention went back to the road, but his mind went to the case.

Now that they had the knife, would the case go smoothly? Mac hoped so. He hoped it would lead them right to their killer…and to Stella.

* * *

"Right in there," Hawkes could hear a nurse's voice say. She was standing right outside his door with two men. He smiled when he recognized their faces.

"How you guys doing?" he asked as Adam and Sid walked into the room.

"How am I doing? How are _you _doing?" Adam smiled as he slapped Hawkes on the back. The former medical examiner winced a little bit, but shrugged it off. He was happy to see his friends.

Hawkes chuckled. "I'm just fine. What I'm really interested in is the case. How's that going?" he asked curiously.

Sid and Adam shared a glance, a look of worry on their faces. Luckily, that went unnoticed by Hawkes. They didn't want to be the bearers of bad news, but he didn't know about the two other bodies. Also, before they drove to the hospital, Mac had called them and told them what he knew so far about Stella's kidnapping.

"Well, it's not going very well," Sid began tentatively, in a manner quite unlike his usual self.

Hawkes noticed this change in behavior and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, the guy killed twice more. We didn't get much evidence, but there were two pieces that we thought might be solid case-breakers. Turns out we were wrong. The bottle of air freshener that Stella and Lindsay found had no prints on it, and it also turned out to be radioactive. Thankfully, the level of radioactivity was not harmful. Mac and Stella also found a drop of blood that didn't go down the sink at the third crime scene. That also led nowhere, seeing as it was the victim's blood that the killer tried to wash away," Adam continued.

"The three victims were definitely killed by the same person, too. The wound tracks are the same depth and width. Also, Mac told us that he found the knife used to kill Chris Jackson, so that means that the killer must have one or two more knives identical to the one found at the first scene," added Sid.

"Wait a minute. The murder weapon from the first scene was found? How? When?" Hawkes' curiosity was heightened at this new bit of information.

Sid and Adam exchanged another glance, and the look of worry in his friends' eyes didn't go unnoticed by him this time. Hawkes looked at his friends suspiciously. "What's going on? There's something you're not telling me, is there?"

"Well, uh, you see, what happened was, um—" Adam stumbled over his words.

Sid interrupted and finished Adam's thought. "While looking through old crime scene photos, Stella spotted the murder weapon. She went to the first crime scene without backup, not knowing that the killer was there. He kidnapped her. We have no idea where she could be."

Hawkes was shocked. "You have no leads whatsoever?" he asked.

"Well, Lindsay and Mac were just at the corner of the street where the crime scene was. They found the murder weapon and are bringing it back to the lab now," Adam said. "Speaking of which… I need to be back there to process it. Here are the keys, Doc." The lab tech threw the keys to Sid.

"You need to get back to the lab fast. You take the keys. I'll just take a taxi home," Sid said, throwing them back to Adam.

"There are always taxis at the front of every hospital, Sid," Adam pointed out. "And besides, this is _your _car." He threw the keys back to the medical examiner.

Both Sid and Hawkes chuckled. "All right, see you later," Hawkes said.

"I'm glad you're okay, man," Adam smiled. He then left the room.

Sid and Hawkes talked about the case until a nurse came in.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid you have to leave right now. We need to run some tests on Doctor Hawkes," the nurse told Sid.

"That's okay. Thanks," he replied to the nurse. To Hawkes, he said, "Good to know you're awake and better." He smiled and left.

As the nurse took his blood pressure, Hawkes couldn't take his mind off of the new information that Adam and Sid told him. He realized that the day he woke up was the day that Stella got kidnapped. She took his place as the CSI in trouble. He was lucky to survive the shooting. He only hoped that Stella would survive the kidnapping.

* * *

Danny walked back into the precinct after he got his cup of coffee. He found Flack and Angell around Flack's desk, conversing.

"What's going on?" Danny asked as he approached the two homicide detectives.

"Not much has happened. Somebody from Bellevue took away Vocter. After he's subdued and not muttering nonsense, we have to charge him for the shooting. He may be crazy, but he still shot at you two," Angell said, taking Flack's coffee off of his desk and taking a large sip.

"Thanks, Jess," Flack said sarcastically. Angell flashed him a grin.

"I think Bellevue's psych ward would agree with him better than prison, but that's just me. At Riker's, he'd go crazy and think that every single person is out to get him," Flack continued. Danny nodded as his phone rang.

"Who is it?" Angell asked, picking up Flack's coffee once more.

"It's Lindsay," Danny said, checking the caller ID. He pressed 'Accept'. "What's up?"

"_Danny. Stella's been kidnapped,_" Lindsay said seriously.

Danny was shocked. "What happened? How?" he asked, worried. Angell and Flack both looked at him. They knew something was going on, and that something wasn't good.

"_We don't know the specifics yet, but we did find the murder weapon._" Lindsay said. "_We're on our way back now_."

Danny sighed. "All right. Anything else I need to know?" he asked.

"_Yeah_," Lindsay said. Her tone of voice was happier compared to the beginning of the conversation. "_Hawkes is awake_!"

Danny smiled. "That's great! Really great. I'll tell Angell and Flack. I'm with them ight now."

"_Okay_," Danny could hear her smiling through the phone. His grin got even wider. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her smile. "_I'll talk to you later_.." The conversation ended at that.

"What did Lindsay say to make the conversation go from bad to good?" Flack asked.

"There's good news and bad news," Danny started.

"Hit us with the bad first," Angell told him.

"Stella's been kidnapped," Danny told them gravely.

"What?!" Flack and Angell exclaimed together.

"When?" Flack asked.

"Mac and Lindsay don't know anything yet," Danny replied. "However, they did find the murder weapon and they're on their way back now."

"And the good news?" Angell asked.

"Hawkes woke up," he said.

Identical grins made their way onto Flack and Angell's faces. "That's excellent!" Angell said.

"We've been needing a bit of good, 'cause God knows no good has come out of this case," Flack stated.

Danny and Angell nodded somberly. It was the truth.

* * *

Stella didn't realize that she'd dozed off. She woke up an hour later and glanced out of the only window. Aside from seeing her kidnapper sitting right in front of it, she saw that the sun was down and the streetlights were out.

She was considering trying to go back to sleep. However, she sat up even straighter when she realized what her captor was doing. He was pulling his brown satchel off of the dusty floor. That was the satchel that she cut a hole through.

The CSI felt her stomach plummet downward. He was about to find out that the knife was missing. Stella knew he was smart—how else would he have gotten away with the murders? She knew that he'd figure out that she was the one who cut the hole out of the bottom of the bag. She knew that he'd figure out that the knife wasn't there because of her. She didn't want to know what would happen to her now.

He rummaged through the bag only to find that his hand stuck out from the bottom of it. There was nothing in there. He looked briefly at his exposed left hand and back at Stella.

Stella didn't notice him looking at her at first. She was staring at his exposed hand. His exposed _left _hand. Then her eyes darted to his right wrist. A gold watch was on that wrist.

"_The pattern of the wound is also right to left, which suggests that the killer was left-handed,_" Sid had said when he finished the autopsy of Chris Jackson. People normally put their watch on with the dominant hand. In this man's case, his dominant hand was the left. He would have the left hand to put to put the watch on the right. Now that she saw this, she had no doubt in her mind that he was the killer.

"Clever," he suddenly said. She looked up to meet his stormy-grey eyes. "You somehow managed to cut a hole through the bottom of the bag so that when I put the knife in, it would fall out. Very clever. And knowing your…_people_, they would already have found it. Very clever."

He stood up. So did Stella. "Of course, that wasn't a very smart thing to do." He pulled out a gun and screwed a silencer on. Then he aimed it at her.

_Bang!_ He fired a shot, but surprisingly it didn't hit her. It hit the wall behind her. "It's a shame that I 'missed'. However…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out Stella's phone. "I might not next time."

He scrolled through her contacts list until he found Mac's name. "Mac Taylor. Your boss, isn't he?" He pressed 'Call'.

* * *

In Manhattan, Mac just stepped into his office when his phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the name written on the screen.

It read, '_Stella Bonasera_.'

He pressed 'Accept' and answered tentatively. "Stella?"

A man's voice laughed on the other end. "_Not quite, Detective_."

"Who are you?" Mac asked forcefully. "Where's Stella?!"

"_Patience, patience, Detective,_" the man said. "_I know you have the knife. You weren't supposed to get it._"

"The thought that we weren't supposed to get it never crossed my mind," Mac said sarcastically.

The man chuckled. "_You're a funny man, Detective Taylor. I just hope your humor can get Detective Bonasera out of this situation. You might wanna hurry. I haven't quite forgiven her for letting you have the knife yet._" The man hung up.

Mac's face contorted with rage. He was tired of this guy screwing with them. He held his phone in his hands and thought for a minute. Then he saw Adam come out of the elevator.

Mac rushed out of his office to talk to the lab tech. "Adam. Lindsay and I found the murder weapon. It's waiting for you in DNA. Be sure to swab under the hilt and check for prints.. And take my phone. See if you can find out where the last call came. The killer just called."

Adam's eyes widened. "I-is Stella okay?" he asked.

"He just told me that 'I might want to hurry'. So Adam, make the knife and the call your top priority. All other pieces of evidence go to the side," Mac told him. Adam nodded and walked off in the direction of the DNA lab.

Mac walked back to his office and collapsed on the couch, head in hands.

'_Come on, Stella. Where are you?_'

* * *

**Kudos to those who can guess the song in the first section! Also, I find it funny that my playlist shuffled to 'Shut Up and Let Me Go' when I was writing Stella's part. XD**

**OOC? Anything weird? Review and tell me! And constructively criticize me! Please do so. I don't think I wrote this very well, and I would appreciate your thoughts.**

**Aly x3 **


	13. A Slight Glimmer of Hope

**I'm desperately trying to make my update time better. Honestly. However, it's that time of the year again! The school time. -_- Don't you love it? As you get older, the work load gets bigger! Not fun! Haha, oh well. It's a part of life. **

**So what do you guys think of season 6 so far? I have to say, I absolutely loved the Danny & Lindsay plus Lucy bit in Dead Reckoning! Haylen seems like an interesting new character. We'll see where her storyline goes from there. **

**Disclaimer: There's no way in the history of the universe that I could own anything related to CSI: NY. **

**Time setting: It's most definitely night time, but I don't know when. That's up to your imagination. **

**A/N (Aly's Note): I wonder how many people have stuck around for this. I know that the long update periods are my fault, and I acknowledge that. I just want to let those who are reading know that this story will end soon. I really had fun writing this, but my inspiration to continue this story for a long time is diminishing. This story will be over in a couple of chapters. I really am sorry guys, but that's my fatal flaw as a writer. I get really excited about a story, I start writing it, but then my inspiration fades away. There will definitely be more chapters after this one, but not many. I'm sorry again, and I hope you like the remaining chapters. **

* * *

As her captor hung up the phone, Stella couldn't help but glare at him. She hated when anyone screwed around with her friends, especially with Mac. She doubly hated the person if they messed around with Mac.

The man put her phone in his pocket, looked at her and chuckled as he did so. "Your friend really is something else, Detective Bonasera. He seems like a good man."

"That's exactly why he's coming after you," she growled. "Because he's a good man."

"Just because I've killed three people doesn't necessarily mean that I'm a bad man," the man responded. "Think about it, Detective. Both you and Detective Taylor have shot people. Would you consider yourself a bad person?"

"We shot people in the line of duty. We didn't kill innocent people. _You_, however, killed those three people for no reason whatsoever." Stella shot back, still glaring angrily.

"Potato, po-tah-to," he dismissed her comment, waving his hand in front of his face. "No matter which way you say it, it's still the same thing."

"No. It really isn't." Stella replied, turning her head away from him and staring out of the only window.

"I hear a tone in your voice, Detective," the man stated, walking over to where she sat. "I also saw something in your eyes. What is that I saw?"

The CSI turned her head as he drew closer and narrowed her eyes. He cocked his head to one side and tried to study her facial expression. She quickly averted her gaze to the floor. However, he already got what he needed.

He smiled in recognition. "I know why we were talking about Detective Taylor. He's more than just a friend, isn't he?"

Stella quickly turned her head and met his gaze. "Mac's just a friend," she said simply.

"Sure it's not more?" he asked. Her gaze hardened: he was taunting her. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Stella returned to her gazing out of the window. "I don't have to tell you anything."

The man chuckled. "You've already told me everything." He walked over to the back, where the bathroom was. "Nature's calling me, so I won't be with you for a little bit. Don't try to escape, though. This door locks from the inside, too, and I have the key. You won't be able to call anyone either. Your phone is in my pocket. I won't take long, I promise."

A couple of seconds later, she heard the latch of the bathroom door click closed. Stella then sprang up from where she was sitting and began looking for any possible way to exit. She could smash the window open, but that was too noisy. Also, where would she go? She didn't know Far Rockaway well. She could pick the lock with the bobby pin she had in her pocket, but she didn't have keys to the car.

The detective searched for something useful for her captor's discarded jacket, but only found a stick of gum and some lint.

Then she looked in the satchel. Stella didn't look in the main compartment, because everything that was in there would have fallen out due to the hole she cut in it. But there were two other smaller compartments. One held an expired MetroCard.

Stella sighed. Was she going to have any luck finding anything? Filled with a sense of hopelessness, she looked in the last compartment. A feeling of warmness overcame her as she saw what was inside. Could her captor really have forgotten about this?

A phone.

Glancing quickly over her shoulder at the bathroom door, she scrolled down to 'Create New Message' and pressed the 'Select' button. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard as she wrote a message to the one number she trusted the most.

* * *

"Okay Doctor Hawkes, make sure to take one of these pills twice every day, morning and night, for two weeks." Doctor Laurent said, handing Hawkes a bottle of pills.

"All right, thanks for everything Doctor." Hawkes said, smiling at the Doctor. The doctor smiled back before walking into the room neighboring Hawkes'.

Hawkes walked into the elevator and pressed the 'L' button to head to the lobby. Even though the ride down from the fifth floor was a short one, an agglomeration of thoughts flew into his mind. He was anxious to find out how the case was going, but at the same time worried about Stella's well-being. The former medical examiner really felt a need to rush back to the lab and assist in any way he could with the case. Hawkes indubitably wanted to find the killer—who he presumed was his shooter and Stella's kidnapper—and put him behind bars for the rest of his life.

_Ding_. The elevator chimed when it reached the lobby. Hawkes walked outside and got into a cab.

"Where you going, sir?" the cabbie had a slightly accented voice.

Hawkes shut the door. "New York Crime Lab, please. As fast as you can."

The cabbie nodded, started the meter, and drove off. Hawkes leaned back in his seat and watched the buildings pass by. One, two, three, four. They seemed to never end.

'_Just like this case_,' he thought dispiritedly.

Soon they reached the highway, and the stream of buildings stopped. Hawkes prayed that they could soon relate their case to the buildings. Just as the stream of buildings stopped, their case would hopefully come to an end soon.

* * *

"Mac," The sound of his name made the CSI look up. He saw Danny, Flack, and Angell standing in front of him.

"I called Adam five minutes ago to ask him if he had any new developments on the case and he told me that the killer contacted you," Danny informed him.

"There anything that we should know?" Angell asked.

Mac sighed. "He didn't say anything. He was taunting me." His eyes were focused on a building outside of his window, but it was clear that he wasn't looking at or thinking about the building.

"You know what, I'm not a CSI, but can't Adam pull up the conversation you had? Can't he make it louder? You know, so you can hear stuff that you wouldn't normally have heard on a phone." Flack suggested. The three people in the room stared at him.

"It was just a suggestion," Flack added, a bit defensive.

"It's actually pretty feasible," Danny reasoned.

"All right, let's get to Adam and have him work his magic with the phone. It may be the only lead we have." Angell said.

The four walked out of the room to the DNA lab, where Adam was currently working on the knife that Mac and Lindsay found.

"Adam," Mac called the lab tech's name as the four entered the room. "Have you started processing my phone yet?"

"Not yet," said Adam, shaking his head. "I just began running the DNA from under the hilt. You were right. I found some epithelials there."

"Okay, while we wait for the results, do you think that you can pull up the last conversation I had on my phone?" Ma continued.

"Yeah, I think so," Adam said. He grabbed Mac's phone (which was lying near the computer), and ambled over to the Audio/Visual lab. Mac, Danny, Flack and Angell followed him.

"This is your department-issued phone, right?" Adam asked as he connected his phone to the computer.

"It is. Is there something special about that?" Mac asked.

"Well, in an attempt to see if officers or department employees are involved in anything illegal, the phone company the department uses records calls coming into or going out of the phone," Adam began as he started frantically typing. "Now, if I can just get those records…" Adam paid no attention to the detectives behind him as he searched for the call recordings on Mac's phone.

"How Flack knew this is beyond me," Danny murmured.

"See, Messer, I'm not just another pretty face," Flack quipped. Angell laughed.

A beep from the computer signified that Adam had found what he was looking for. "Got it," he said. He then highlighted the last call on Mac played and clicked on the 'Play' button. The five were silent as they heard the killer speak after Mac.

"_Stella?_" Mac's voice said tentatively.

"_Not quite, Detective…" _They listened to the call, taking in both the taunting voice of the killer and other sounds that might lead them to Stella's location.

"_I haven't quite forgiven her for letting you have the knife yet._" There was the click of a dial tone and the recording ended.

"You know what; I think I might have heard something. Play it again, will you, Adam?" Danny asked. The recording started again.

"_I know you have the knife_," the killer's voice said.

"Pause it here," Danny suddenly said. Adam clicked 'Pause'. "'Kay, now play it again, but lower the killer's voice." Adam tinkered with the controls and played it again. As soon as the killer started to say 'have the knife', there was a distinctive sound in the background.

"You hear that, right?" Danny asked.

"It sounds familiar, but I can't quite make it out." Mac replied.

"I can make the sound louder and clear it up if it's fuzzy," Adam offered. Mac nodded.

When the killer said 'have the knife' this time, there was a screeching sound that every single person in the room recognized.

"He's near a subway station." Angell deduced.

"Not one underground, I'm sure. Even if you use the phones that they have down there, the service is terrible. He wouldn't have heard a single word you said." Flack concluded.

"So he's near an elevated subway line. That rules out Manhattan," added Adam.

"The Metro-North lines are elevated in East Harlem," Danny pointed out. "He could always be there."

"That really helps," Flack said dryly.

"Just stating the truth. I don't want to prematurely knock off places unless I'm absolutely sure Stella's not there," Danny responded. "What do you think, Mac?" There was no response from the Chicago native.

"Mac?" Angell said his name one more time. No response again. The group noticed that he was staring at his vibrating phone.

"Could it be the killer again?" Adam asked. The vibrating stopped.

"It was probably a text." Flack absentmindedly brushed invisible dust off his right arm.

Mac picked up the phone without a word and flipped it open. He felt the members of his team crowd around him to look at what he received, but he didn't mind.

Indeed, it was a text message. However, the number was an unknown. Mac pressed 'Select' button and scanned through the message quickly. The team did the same, reading the message swiftly over his shoulder.

"I don't believe it…" Adam breathed.

"Could it really be?' Angell asked.

Mac's mouth remained closed as he stared at his cell phone screen intently.

A message from Stella Bonasera looked up at them from Mac's screen.

* * *

**You know what I realized? Misanthropic Soul turned a year old a couple of weeks ago! It's kinda disappointing, though. One year old and only thirteen chapters. **

**Also, I know that I made the criminal immensely stupid to leave a phone in the satchel. Truth be told, I had a better way of getting Stella out of there, but I honestly forgot. :P Very, very sorry.**

**There you go! Two long sections with a little Hawkes section stuck in the middle. I really hope you like it (those of you who stuck around, anyway) and, time permitting, I hope to update soon!**


	14. Let's Go

**You know, I don't wanna bore you with all of my lame excuses. I actually lost power twice, though, because NYC has had insane snowstorms and rainstorms. Also, I'm a terrible procrastinator. It's a really bad flaw I have. So if you're still around… thanks for staying. (:**

Thanks to lily moonlight, afrozenheart412, phantom of the tinman, beh, **and** Sheila Homer **for reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Wow, do I really have to say it? CSI: NY + ownership = CBS**

**A/N: In this chapter, Mac grabs a jacket. Keep in mind that I started this story in the wintertime, so I'm going to keep the season winter. **

* * *

Hawkes lurched forward as the cab broke suddenly.

He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Hey, what happened?"

"I am sorry for braking so suddenly," the cab driver said. "But the idiot in front of me stopped suddenly and I'm guessing the idiot in front of him the same. We've just hit traffic. It's nothing big."

Hawkes nodded and sat back in his chair. In reality, it actually was something big. Even though he just got out of the hospital, he wanted to get to the lab quickly to aid his colleagues in any way he could. The traffic was a roadblock.

The former medical examiner looked at the window and saw that the next exit was for 72nd Street. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He felt that this whole case was one big roadblock after the next.

* * *

Mac stood with everybody around his shoulders. His cell phone was clutched tightly in his hands. Everybody around him was silent as they read the message.

"_Far Rockaway stop. Abandoned building. Perp armed. Hurry."_ The message read.

"She's in Queens," Danny read, breaking the silence.

"Who's in Queens?" Lindsay asked, Sid at her heels.

"Stella," Angell answered. "Mac just got a text from her."

Lindsay's brown eyes widened. "Y-you're serious?" She and Sid added to the crowd around Mac as they, too, read the message.

Sid's mouth moved as he read each word. "Far Rockaway. That's right near Long Island, but with no traffic, it'll take you just around half an hour to get there. With traffic, it'll take you two hours."

"At least we know where she is now," Flack stated. "Now we just gotta get there."

"Far Rockaway stop. Abandoned building. Perp armed," Mac repeated the message, his eyes still not leaving his cell phone screen.

"Far Rockaway stop could mean the subway stop at Far Rockaway," Adam mused. "There must be an abandoned building by there."

_Beep! _Adam's computer sounded, signaling that he had something. The lab tech walked over to his computer and clicked on the item that just popped up. His eyes widened when he saw what it was.

"I got the DNA results from the epithelials I found under the hilt. It belongs to a…" Adam scrolled down to find the name. "Oscar Emery."

Everybody in the room followed Mac to the computer screen. "He has no priors, so why is he in the system?"

Adam clicked on some items. "Well, his former job in construction wanted all employees' DNA and prints in the system." Adam clicked on some more items. "And it just so happens that they were working on a building in Far Rockaway, right near the last stop on the A train."

"Hey Adam, do me a favor. Check this guy's college major. It wouldn't happen to be forensic science, right?" Flack said.

Adam checked his records. "He graduated with a Master's Degree in forensic science." He looked quizzically at Flack. "How did you know that?"

"Flack's just bursting with knowledge today," Danny sarcastically stated.

"Now I can officially call myself a crime scene investigator," joked Flack.

"He got a degree in forensic science, but worked as a construction worker?" Lindsay queried. "Seems odd."

"Well, people do odd things," Sid pointed out. "That's why we all still have jobs."

"Adam, give me the address of the building," Mac said. Adam typed in a few more things on the keyboard.

"1560 Beach 22nd Street," Adam responded, quickly scribbling down the address onto a piece of paper.

Mac nodded his thanks and walked out of the room without saying another word.

The remaining people in the room looked at each other for a moment and went after him.

"Mac," Danny called, following Mac into his office. "We know what you're thinking." The Chicago native opened his mouth to speak, but Angell cut him off.

"You're not thinking about going there alone, are you?" Angell asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Like it or not, Stella's our friend, too," Flack added.

Mac didn't look at them as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "So what are you saying?"

"What do you think?" Lindsay asked, a knowing smile on her face.

"I think they're trying to say that they're going to go with you," Sid smiled as well.

Flack stepped forward. "Mac, we know Stella's kidnapping has affected you more than the rest of us. Don't try to hide it; we've seen the connection between you two. But we've been affected too. We're going."

"I'll stick with the evidence and call you guys if anything important comes up," Adam piped up.

"All of my autopsies are done, so I can give Adam an extra hand. I may be no CSI or a lab tech, but I find hidden stuff on bodies all the time. How different can it be on a piece of plastic or paper?" volunteered Sid.

"Point is, we're a team. We stick together." Danny finished. Lindsay and Angell nodded in agreement.

Mac looked at each member of his team and saw the determined looks on all of their faces. It was clear that they weren't backing down.

"All right, grab your vests and meet me in the garage. And as soon as we get on I-678 South, cut the sirens. I don't know how good this guy's hearing is, but I don't want to risk him hearing us coming." Mac instructed. The team gave him an encouraging smile and turned to leave his office.

"But you know, I wasn't planning to go alone," Mac said. The team turned around to face him. "You guys just started speaking before I could tell you to meet me in the garage." A smile came to his face as he made his way past his team toward the elevators.

"I totally knew that," Flack said, trying to make it seem like he actually did know Mac's intentions.

"Of course you did," Angell smirked as the team hurried to their lockers to grab their bullet-proof vests.

* * *

Stella sent the message and made sure to delete all evidence of her message. Then, after scanning the room to make sure nothing was out of place, she stealthily returned to the place she was sitting before.

She heard the toilet flush and her captor walked out of the room a minute later. She kept on her poker face as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Hey there, Detective. Miss me?" her captor said.

"Go to hell," Stella spat. The man chuckled and sat down six feet to her right.

"Language, Detective. I'm not a completely bad man. I didn't want to kill those people for enjoyment. I'm not a sadistic person," the man said.

"Oh really?" Stella said brusquely. "So I supposed you slit their throats because you like the pretty color of blood?"

Her captor chuckled once more and leaned his head against the wall. "No, that's not it. I never really liked the color red. Things happen for a reason, and the killings are no exception."

"I guess you're gonna say that there's a perfectly legitimate reason for killing three people." Stella glared at him.

"Now, now, I don't think you really need to know my reasons. Some things are meant to stay a mystery." he said. Stella chose not to reply. The two sat in silence for what seemed to be ten minutes. The man sat there opening and closing the chamber of his revolver repeatedly.

Stella stared out the window behind her and swallowed a lump in her throat. If Mac and the team left right after they received her message, she estimated that it would take them just over half an hour to reach here. It had been around fifteen minutes since she sent her message.

She kept her eyes glued to the sky. Even with the lights of New York City, she swore she saw a star. Even though she felt kind of silly doing so, she decided to make a wish on the star. When she was little, she thought that a star should answer all of her wishes first because her name meant 'star'.

Stella closed her eyes and wished for Mac and the team to come quickly. She stayed that way for what seemed to be five minutes. When she opened her eyes, she realized that her captor was staring at her.

"Taking a little break, Detective?" he asked. Stella remained in silence. "I know, you've had a tiring few days. Feeling hungry at all? No?"

"I don't need anything," Stella said blankly. She was going to stare out the window again when she realized something. If she could keep her captor's attention focused on her, Mac and the team could come and her captor would have no time to escape.

"No, I don't need anything. But what about you? Are you hungry? Are you tired? Running around cleaning up your messes must be tiring, I'm sure." Stella said, casually directing the conversation to try to get more information about the murders.

Her captor's face broke out into a smile. "I know what you're trying to do, Detective. I'm still not going to tell you about the murders."

Stella tried to coax more information out of him. "Then at least tell me your name. I find it sad that you know my name but I don't know yours."

The man sighed and stood up. "Fine. Since I know there's no way you can escape, I'll tell you my name. Hi, I'm Oscar Emery."

"It's…a 'pleasure' to be able to put a name to the face," Stella said dryly.

The man—Oscar Emery—walked to the other end of the building. "Is that a way to respond after I just told you my name? Really now, I thought you had more manners than that."

Stella bit her tongue to stop her from saying something retaliatory. She had to stay on this guy's 'good' side.

"I'm sorry," she forced the words out of her mouth. "We're just on opposite sides of the game, remember? We're not supposed to be cordial."

"Haven't I been cordial, Detective? I could've shot you, but I didn't. I could've killed you instead of bringing you here, but I didn't. You're still alive and well," Emery stated, fingering his revolver.

"Of course. I forgot about that," Stella said, forcing herself to not sound bitter. She displayed a clock in front of her face mentally. Almost twenty-eight minutes since she sent the message.

Emery cocked his head to one side as he stared at her. He was analyzing her. Stella tried to avoid eye contact.

"What's going on, Detective?" Emery asked. "You've never been this...'nice' to me before this moment. Why start now?"

Stella's heart started beating faster as she swiftly invented a plausible response. "Simple. If I'm nice to you, I stay alive longer."

Emery considered her answer. "Smart thinking, Detective. I'll buy it." He walked off to another corner of the building.

Stella exhaled a sigh of relief. Thirty minutes since she sent the message. If she knew Mac—and she did know him—he probably would have left right after she sent that message. It was only a matter of time until she was saved.

* * *

Flack swerved the car onto I-678 South, slowed down, and cut the sirens. In the Avalanche behind them, Danny and Lindsay did the same.

"I already called dispatch and informed them that there will be two black Avalanches speeding down I-678 South. Highway cops won't stop us." Angell said from the back seat. Flack sped up a little just as they passed a highway patrol car. The car didn't move.

"All right, that works to our advantage." Flack said, shifting lanes.

In the passenger seat, Mac flipped open his phone to check for calls or texts from Stella. There weren't any.

He was just about to put his phone away when it rang. He quickly flipped it open and answered. "Taylor."

"The building that you're heading to is definitely where they're keeping Stella. I performed a reverse cell phone lookup and pinpointed the exact location your killer called from. 1560 Beach 22nd Street." Adam informed him.

"Any more information on Emery?" Mac asked.

"So far, we haven't found any connection between Emery and Galib or McLaughlin, but it turns out he took a psych class in college with Chris Jackson. I'll keep digging," Adam replied.

"All right, thanks Adam," Mac said, hanging up.

"What'd he say?" Flack asked.

"Apparently Emery took a psych class with Chris Jackson in college," Mac shared.

"Chris Jackson, the first victim?" Angell asked.

"Yeah," Mac said. "I don't know how Jackson went from old college classmate to murder victim, but Adam said he'd keep looking. He also confirmed that our location is the one where Stella's being held."

Flack accelerated a little bit more. "Let's go then. We're almost there." The two Avalanches sped off into the night.

* * *

Just as the rest of the team was speeding off toward Stella, traffic on the West Side Highway lightened up and traffic was starting to flow. The cab driver stepped on the gas and accelerated.

Hawkes noticed the change in traffic and kept his eyes focused on the scenery outside the windshield. Now that the traffic was over, they were moving at a steady pace and arrived at the crime lab in a short time.

Hawkes paid the driver and swiftly made his way to the elevator. The elevator came and he pressed a button.

When they stopped on his floor, he got off and searched the lab for Adam. He found the lab tech in the A/V room along with Sid.

"Adam, Sid." Hawkes greeted his colleagues quickly. Both men's faces broke out into smiles.

"How're you doing, man?" Adam asked.

"I'm fine. What's the update on the case? How's Stella?"

Adam and Sid took turns explaining the story to Hawkes.

"So they're heading to get her now? I gotta go help them," Hawkes said. He was just about ready to run out of the room when Sid placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's no use. They left almost thirty-five minutes ago. They should be there right now. They're going to be fine." Sid said reassuringly.

Hawkes realized that everything Sid said was true. He sank into a chair and watched Adam as he worked. He put his confidence in the team. They _would_ be fine.

* * *

The two Avalanches stopped within a close distance of the building. Mac pulled out a pair of binoculars and glanced at the building. He saw Stella and another guy—Emery.

"They're there." Mac confirmed. He then grabbed a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Okay, quietly make your way to the building. From what I've seen, there's no back exit. Danny and Lindsay, approach from the back just in case. Angell, Flack and I got the front."

"_10-4, Mac_." Danny's voice said. Mac, Angell, and Flack got out of their car. Danny and Lindsay got out of theirs.

Mac took his gun from his holster and cocked it. He nodded to his team. "Let's go. Stella's stayed with that son of a bitch for too long."

**

* * *

**

**Since I've been such a horrible updater, I felt that you guys needed a longer chapter. But, looking back on it, it's definitely not one of my best chapters. :( **

**PLEASE LEAVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! Along with your review, of course. (: I always respond to reviews. However, I'll be flying to Miami tomorrow and leaving for a cruise on Saturday, so I may not be able to respond soon. **

**MANY THANKS to those who are still reading, and I'm sorry for the poor-quality chapter. :( **

**-Aly **


	15. It's Finally Over

**Hey there fanfictioners! I sent some of you messages telling you that I would be taking an indefinite absence from fanfiction. The truth is, I was having major family problems and could not commit my priorities to fan fiction. I had to focus primarily on my family. Then, after that, I made a not-so-great decision that made me refocus my views on handling life. Now, I need to get my priorities in order and focus on what's really important. After all, I'm heading into grade 11, one of the most important grades!**

**That being said, I will not give up this fan fiction or writing. I will continue to write, just not multi-chapter stories. I got to get my head straight and concentrate! **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter and the remaining ones. I have enjoyed this story, but it will be over soon. Including this chapter, probably only two or three more left.**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight**,** phantom of the mental ward**, **afrozenheart412**,** **and **conche** for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Never owned it, never will.**

**A/N: I'm sure you all have heard that Melina Kanakaredes is leaving CSI: NY. I respect her decision, but I'm going to lose my passion for the series now! I always hoped the writers would include something between Mac and Stella, and now that she's gone…it's never going to happen. That's upsetting. **

* * *

Stella and Emery were oblivious to the police officers approaching the building. As Mac, Angell, and Flack discreetly walked to the front, they heard the faint sound of a twig snapping. Flack, who was at the back of the two, mouthed a swear as he looked at his feet.

Unfortunately, that sound didn't pass by Emery and Stella. Stella's head snapped up when she heard the faint sound. Emery, who was closer to the front of the building, whipped his head toward the front window.

"Did you hear that?" Emery asked, walking closer to the front window.

Stella thought that the sound could possibly come from Mac and the team approaching the building. Her heart raced with excitement. If it was them, she was close to being saved!

Emery noticed the lack of response from Stella. He focused all of his attention on her. "Oh, Detective?" he said, fingering his revolver. "Did you hear the sound outside?"

Stella decided it was best to lie. She didn't want her friends' location to be revealed. "No," she said firmly, staring him straight in the eyes. She tried to keep her gaze for as long as possible, but she couldn't hold it. Her eyes quickly flickered to the front window and back to Emery.

Emery smiled darkly. Her eye flicker didn't go unnoticed by him. "Ah, but you're lying to me, Detective. I saw your eyes flicker."

"So you know something about human psychology?" Stella tried to direct the conversation away from the sound to buy her friends some more time.

Emery shrugged. "I took a couple of classes in college. Nothing too spectacular. That's how I know that you're not telling the truth, Detective."

Stella swore to herself. _Damn_. Her plan to buy time wasn't working. She noticed the silver revolver grasped by his left hand. She chose to keep civil conversation.

"Knowing if someone is lying or not is a bit spectacular. The signs are minute. You have quite a brain, Mr Emery," Stella tried. "Are you a psychologist or profiler of some sort?"

Emery chuckled. "All right, I'll humor you."

Stella's heart became a bit lighter. Her plan was somewhat succeeding! He didn't believe her, but he wasn't doing anything either.

"I majored in forensic science, but went to work in construction. In fact, this building," he gestured to their surroundings. "was one of our projects. Then the owner of the property suddenly canceled construction. Nobody has wanted to buy the property, so it's just been here. A sore sight, but it's proven useful."

"Your major couldn't have proved helpful in your line of work," Stella continued. "Why construction of all things?"

"I don't know. I thought forensics was what I wanted to do, but as I lost interest as I continued to learn the subject in college. It was too expensive to change majors, so I decided to stick with it. Then I went to a job fair. Construction seemed like the only thing that I seemed interested in. So I went for an interview and the rest is history." he said.

"So how'd you know Chris Jackson, Abu Galib, and Serena McLaughlin? Were they part of a job?" Stella redirected the conversation, hoping that he would reveal some aspect of his connection to the victims.

Emery chuckled again. "I thought you learned this before, Detective. I'm not going to reveal any information about the murders. I commend the fact that you tried again, though."

Stella played along with him. "Yeah, I tried again. Kinda upset it didn't work."

"Not only did that not work, but your conversation with me about my former job didn't get my mind off of that sound we heard earlier." Emery told her. Stella's heart sank. She thought that he had forgotten about that. "Now, do you know what that sound was?" He started moving closer to where she was sitting.

"A squirrel walking around outside?"

Emery shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think it sounds like police officers outside this building waiting to come in and arrest me."

Stella shifted uncomfortably on the floor. She had a bad feeling this was about to go south. "I-I never said…"

Emery fingered his revolver. "That's right, Detective. You didn't say anything. I don't like being uninformed or lied to. And you've done both."

Stella saw him fingering his revolver and had to make a quick decision. It was either submit to Emery or fight for her freedom. She chose the latter.

"You know, I think I was patient enough. I'm still not happy that you allowed your people to get the knife…" Emery clicked off the safety on the revolver.

Stella heard the familiar click of the safety being turned off. It was now or never. Life or death.

She jumped up and lunged at Emery.

* * *

Mac and Angell whipped their heads around when they heard a twig snap. They saw Flack looking at his feet.

"Damn it!" he mouthed. Mac motioned for the two to keep moving. The three moved stealthily toward the front, crouching down low so the tops of their heads wouldn't be seen in the windows. They made their way to a spot between the front door and a window and crouched low so they wouldn't be seen.

Flack, who was closest to the window snuck a peek inside. Emery was advancing toward Stella, but the two only seemed to be talking. Flack quickly ducked his head back under the windowpane.

"How is she?" Mac's whisper was so quiet that it was almost inaudible.

"She's fine. Emery's advancing toward her, but they're just talking," Flack matched the tone of Mac's voice perfectly. They couldn't risk Emery overhearing. Even though they were only whispering, it was still possible that they would be heard.

"Armed?" Angell asked, matching the tone of the two men perfectly.

"Yeah. .38 Smith & Wesson," Flack whispered back.

"So what's the plan, Mac?" Angell asked, voice still low.

"We'll take glances occasionally. If nothing seems to be going south, we wait here. But at the first sign of trouble, we go," Mac whispered, a determined look on his face.

Flack took one more glance two minutes later. He saw Stella fidget, but otherwise saw no other sign of obvious danger. He signaled to Mac that everything was okay.

However, not too long after that glance, they heard a familiar click. It was the sound of a gun's safety being turned off. The three looked at each other, fearing that something bad was about to happen.

Mac's phone suddenly vibrated. It was a text from Danny. Before getting out of the cars, the team decided to set their phones on vibrate. Talking into walkie-talkies could have revealed their location, so they decided to text each other to be safe.

'_Heard the click. Should we head there?_' the message read.

Mac quickly replied. '_Yes, be discreet._' He put his phone in his pocket.

He swiftly moved closer to the window so he himself could see if Stella was still alive or not. What he saw made him grit his teeth and face Flack and Angell with one order in mind. As soon as he saw Danny and Lindsay quietly make their way over to him, he said one thing.

"Go."

* * *

Stella lunged at Emery. He was taken by surprise and dropped the revolver. It scattered across the floor and landed near the west wall of the building.

She aimed a punch to his face and heard something—probably his jaw—crack. She tried to hit him in his solar plexus, but he blocked her hit effectively. No longer surprised, Emery retaliated and punched her in the stomach.

Stella let out a cry and stumbled backward. Emery kicked her left leg and she crumpled to the floor, lower ribs and left leg burning with pain. Emery took the chance to run and grab his gun.

He was aiming the gun, when all of a sudden the front door broke down and in ran Mac, Lindsay, Danny, Angell, and Flack.

"Put the gun down, Emery!" Mac yelled. "It's all over."

Emery focused on Mac's face and gave him a wicked smile. "Is is really, Detective?"

The other four detectives circled around Emery, surrounding him. "Yes it is! Now do us a favor and drop the damn gun." Flack said from Emery's left.

"You've got all of us surrounding you. We can put a bullet in your heart faster than you can pull the trigger." Danny said.

Emery looked to his right at the CSI. "Oh really?" he put his finger on the trigger. "You wanna bet?"

Mac tensed. "Don't even try it." he said through clenched teeth.

Emery's finger stroked the trigger guard as he contemplated what he would do next. Flack, Danny, and Angell remained focused on him. However, Mac's eyes flickered toward Lindsay, who was currently standing behind Emery.

She motioned to him, hoping that he would understand what she was proposing even without words. She mouthed a couple of things to him at the same time.

Luckily, Mac got what she was saying. He nodded.

Emery noticed Mac's nod. "What ever could you be nodding at, Detective Taylor?"

"Her." Mac said simply. Emery looked confused.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the back of his knees. As he crumpled to the floor in a kneeling position, gun still in hand, Mac slid on the floor in front of Stella and shot him in the arm.

He yowled in pain and dropped his gun. Lindsay quickly hurried over and put handcuffs on him.

"Oscar Emery, you are under the arrest for the murders of Chris Jackson, Abu Galib, Serena McLaughlin; for the attempted murder of Sheldon Hawkes; and for the kidnapping, attempted murder, and assault of Stella Bonasera. You have the right to remain silent, which I sure hope you take. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford one, one will be appointed to you…" Lindsay read him his rights while Danny, Angell, and Flack stared in shock.

"Where did the pained Emery come from?" Angell asked Mac.

He smiled. "Ask Lindsay, she was the one who kicked him in the back of the knee."

Flack grinned and Danny smiled at Lindsay. "That's my Montana." Lindsay rolled her eyes and smiled as he walked over to her. The two of them forced Emery to his feet.

"Come on. You're going away for a hell of a long time…how's forever sound to you?" Danny asked. He and Lindsay walked him to their car.

"Take him straight to the precinct," Flack called after them. He and Angell then joined Mac next to Stella.

"Stella?" Mac brushed a stray curl away from her face. "Are you okay? You need an ambulance?"

Stella coughed, but smiled weakly at Mac. "I'm okay. Thank you." She looked at Angell and Flack. "Thank you all."

Flack and Angell smiled back. Mac looked at the two homicide detectives. "Can you guys bring the car closer? I don't want Stella to put pressure on her leg."

The two nodded and left the building. Stella smiled at him again. "I appreciate the thought, Mac, but I'm fine. Really, I can walk." She stood up, but fell. Luckily, Mac caught her before she reached the ground.

"I appreciate your strength, Stella, but you can't walk. At least, not without help," Mac said, putting her arm around him. "Come on, I'll help you."

A horn honked in front of the building. Mac and Stella looked out the door to see that Flack and Angell were there.

"Come on. I don't want you standing up too long. Let's go."

Mac started forward, but before they took a step, Stella pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered. Mac looked at her and smiled.

"Anytime."

* * *

**I was debating whether or not I should make Emery shoot Stella, but I decided not to. In my last multi-chapter fic, Stella was shot. I decided to spare her this time. :p And I couldn't resist adding the little SMacked moment at the end. (;**

**I REALLY want to know what you thought! I'm not too confident about this one. Too OOC? Too little/too much action? Weird grammar/spelling/vocabulary? Was the SMacked too OOC? Strange ending? Any unclear parts? Please, PLEASE, tell me! Don't be afraid to tell me the truth! :D**

**Next chapter will probably be the last. All they have to do now is interrogate Emery, find out his motives, etc. And then there will be a happy ending...no butterflies and rainbows, but there won't be any more bad events. :)**

**Reviews always replied to! Constructive criticism always welcome!**

**-Aly **


	16. The Calm After the Storm

**...I'm quite terrible, aren't I? D: Junior year really bites. I took the SAT and my results weren't too bad. My English was like 205824502348x better than my math. My math and English teachers are Nazis and AP Biology is kicking my butt. We have a break for Easter, but I'm heading to Greece, & when I come back, it'll be May... JUST DON'T HATE ME PLEASE.**

**Merci mille fois to **phantom of the mental ward**,** afrozenheart412**, **lily moonlight**, and **Catulicious** for reviewing! You all make me smile. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own it? ...no.**

**A/N: I wanted to update in November and include something that happened in November in this note. It's April, but I'll still talk about it anyway. XD**

**- Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows: Part I- I can't believe the series is coming to an end so quickly. D: As a die-hard Harry Potter junkie, I was mad excited for the movie to come out, and yet was sad that these next two end the series. If you saw it, what did you think? The Fred & George parts were hilarious! I think the movie was great, but they could've included more book parts in it. Can't wait for the second part! I am a Harry Pot-head. Get it? Like a Harry Potter addict...hahaha... o_o**

**- Also, can anyone help me with the college process? I'm freeeakkinggg out about all the stuff that I have to do just to get into college...& anyone know about international student applications? I might apply to Kings College in London and London Metropolitan University. HELP PLEASE. Stressed stressed, Aly is stressed.**

**Remember: Constructive criticism + reviews = yes. I'm terrible at ending stories and this is the beginning of the ending. So I really need your reviews on this one! :D **

**PS: Happy New Year four months late! **

* * *

After Mac saw that Stella was safely situated at the hospital for a check-up, he brought Flack with him to interview Oscar Emery for a final time.

The two detectives stopped outside of the interview room. Before they walked in, the two peered through the door window at their perp. Emery was sitting down calmly, staring at the one-way mirror and not looking disturbed at all. His left arm—shot by Mac only a couple of hours previously—lay in a sling.

Flack scoffed and shook his head at their perp's indifference. Mac, however, remained stone-faced and pushed open the door.

Emery didn't make any move to acknowledge the detectives' presence. Mac walked toward the seat in front of Emery as Flack circled the interrogation table. It was only when Mac was well situated in his chair that Emery made eye contact.

"Hey there," said Flack, stopping to stand next to Mac. He shot Emery a pointed look. "Remember us?"

Emery smiled without showing emotion. "Well, of course. How could I forget Detectives Mac Taylor and Don Flack? Two members of the team who brought me to this...lovely place."

Flack scowled while Mac remained emotionless. The latter pulled out the autopsy photos of all three of their victims and laid them out in front of Emery without saying a word.

"Know them?" Flack continued his slow walk around the table. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You were the one who killed them!"

"Eh, potato, potahto," Emery said impassively.

"And what about these two?" Mac spoke for the first time since he got back into the precinct. He laid out Hawkes' picture. "Him?"

Emery just stared at the pictures on the table. Mac laid out Stella's picture next to Hawkes'. "Her?"

"Well, that one is Detective Bonasera!" Emery said. "Yes, we did have a...'meaningful' conversation back in Queens. I don't know the other one's name, though. He looks quite familiar."

Mac slammed his palms down on the table, startling Flack. He had come into this interrogation wanting to remain dispassionate, but Emery's comments about his team made him snap. It was obvious that Mac was protective of his team, and no one was gonna get to his team without having something happen to them in return.

Emery's lips curved into a wicked smile. "I think that...table-slamming brought back my memory. Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, am I right? It's such a tragedy what happened to him, isn't it? To go into a coma after having a seizure, not very fun."

Mac abandoned all forms of impassiveness and glared at the man sitting in front of him. "Don't you start talking about Hawkes _or _Stella."

"Ooh, getting feisty, are we?" Emery leaned back in his chair. "Do go on, Detective, I really want to hear what's on your mind."

Flack stopped behind Emery and looked down at him. "Do us all a favor, Emery. Remember how children were brought up back in the old days? Sit down, shut up, and don't speak unless spoken to."

Emery looked up at Flack. "Oh, but Detective Flack! Where's the fun in that?"

"You're not here to have "fun"," Mac grit his teeth, resisting the urge to grab Emery's throat. "You're here because you killed three people and shot and kidnapped two of my people!"

"I did that?" Emery feigned shock. "Wow, that's terrible."

"All right, you son of a bitch," Mac growled, standing up with hands still on the table. "Enough games. You may not want to tell us about the victims, but here's the deal. We have just enough evidence to convict you. We've got a knife covered with Chris Jackson's blood on it. Guess whose epithelials are on it? That's right, yours are. Add in the two other counts of murder in the first degree, shooting of an police officer, and kidnapping and murder of a police officer and you're looking at life without parole. No chance of ever seeing freedom again. So start talking."

"Hmm," Emery pretended to ponder his options. "Let me think about this for a second..."

"There's nothing to think about!" Flack exclaimed as he walked over to the opposite side of the interrogation table. "You have no options. Either way, you're going to jail and the world will be rid of your sorry ass for a long time."

Emery put his hand over his heart. "Ouch," he feigned pain. "That really hurt my feelings, Detective Flack. Must you be so acrimonious?"

The tall detective smiled sarcastically. "After all the blood you've seen these past couple of weeks? You can deal with it."

"Oh that's right, you guys have my knife! The one with my epithelials on it. See, Detectives? I've been listening to you," Emery said.

"Congratulations," Flack replied dryly. "You deserve an A."

"You know, if you're not using it, I'd really like it back. It's part of my kitchen set," Emery smiled without emotion.

Mac clenched his fists. "Enough," he said so low that it was almost a deadly whisper. With that one word, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The Chicago native walked to Emery's side of the table. "You're going to tell me how you know these victims and you're gonna tell me now. I know a judge who can throw your ass in jail without a trial."

Emery chuckled. "I'll humor you, Detective. I'll tell you know I know all of them, but it stops there. The reason why I supposedly killed them will forever remain a mystery."

"Enough of your bull, just start speaking already," Flack barked.

"Patience, Detective Flack. I'm getting there," Emery leaned back in his chair. "Chris Jackson was in one of my psych classes in college. You may be thinking, 'Wow, how does he remember him from all those years ago? He was only in one of his classes!' Well, you'd have to be an idiot not to remember Chris for one reason: he was a complete asshole. I thought that when I was done with college I'd never see him again. But then two months ago—" he trailed off.

"Let me guess, you saw him?" Flack interjected sarcastically.

"Now come on, Detective. I never interrupted you when you were telling a story, have I?" Emery turned to Flack. "You best be careful or I might not tell you anything at all."

"Just get on with the story, Emery," Mac said.

Emery turned away from Flack and faced forward again. "Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Flack scowled at this comment. "Two months ago, I saw him when I went to the Met. He didn't recognize me, of course, but I recognized him. Big shot curator with a pretty damn smug smile. He's the only one I knew personally. The other two were random. Didn't know them at all. Satisfied?" Emery leaned back in his seat.

"Almost," Mac said, sitting back down in the chair across from Emery. "What was the motive for killing Galib and McLaughlin? They were random people who did nothing."

"Tsk tsk, I thought I already told you, Detective Taylor," Emery pretended to scold Mac. "I'm not giving motive. However, I'll give you one word that's a hint to the motive of all three of my supposed murders: _retribution_. I paid a debt in full."

Flack raised an eyebrow. "_Retribution_? For what?" However, Emery remained silent. The two detectives tried to get him to speak again, but he remained stone-faced and quiet.

After five minutes of tough persuasion, Mac stood up and said, "Fine." He motioned to the officer guarding the door outside. The officer came inside. "Take him to Central Booking." The officer nodded and made Emery stand up. He cuffed the perp and brought him outside.

As the officer walked Emery outside of the room, Mac and Flack looked at the back of their retreating suspect. Emery, however, did not look back at all.

"You know," Flack said, scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't we'll ever fully understand this case."

"No, I think we've pretty much got it," Mac disagreed. "He's a misanthropic soul who took his hatred for people too far and escalated to murder."

"But what about his 'retribution'?" Flack questioned as the two ambled out of the room. "What about that aspect of it?"

"That's why I said 'pretty much'," Mac responded. "We're probably never going to get that part, but then again, it's not really needed. We've got him down, and that's all that matters."

* * *

"Hey, Doc!" Danny called as he walked into the morgue. Sid momentarily looked up from the body he was examining and acknowledged his coworker.

"Detective Messer," Sid lowered his head back to the body. "What brings you down to my neck of the woods? Are you heading this case?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, after this case, all I wanna do is go home and watch the game with pizza and a beer. It's been a long couple of days."

The medical examiner grabbed tweezers and pulled something off of the John Doe's arm. "I hear you. I could have been at home enjoying a nice meal with my wife, but the drunk idiots obviously don't know how important that is." He put the object in a petri dish and gestured to the body.

Danny nodded in understanding. "The pileup on the FDR? Yeah, it's breaking news. Half the precinct got called out to help with that. It's pretty terrible that you have to stay here. Mrs. Hammerback cooks a mean schnitzel."

"But alas, I'll have to wait a couple of more hours to have a satisfied stomach." Sid put down the petri dish next to the other things collected from the John Doe. "So what do you need?"

Danny presented his papers to him. "Need you to sign some papers on the Emery case." Sid took off his gloves and grabbed the papers. Danny handed the medical examiner a pen and he signed where his signature was needed.

"So what about you?" Sid said as he scribbled his name down in various places. "Mac stick you with the paperwork?"

The CSI pulled a face. "Yeah. I could've been out enjoying that pizza. But you know, I'm not gonna complain. If filling out these papers means finally seeing the end of this case, I'll be more than happy to do them." He took the papers back from his coworker.

"I agree," Sid said. "This case has put a load of stress on us, both mentally and physically. During at least one point in this case we all went crazy over it. And just think about what poor Hawkes and Stella went through during it all! If we think that we had a crazy couple of days, that's nothing compared to what they've been through."

Danny hit Sid amicably with the file. "You know what would get everybody's minds off the case?"

Sid furrowed his brow in confusion."What's that?"

The Staten Island native turned and began to walk away from Sid. "A dinner party at your place!" he left the morgue at that statement.

Sid could only smile and shake his head.

* * *

When Stella Bonasera suddenly awoke, she was momentarily startled at her surroundings. At the realization that she was in the hospital, she relaxed.

_'It wasn't a dream_,' she thought. '_I really did have the day I just had._'

"Well, it looks like someone's awake," a voice said, jarring Stella out of her thoughts. She looked to her right and saw Adam, Hawkes, Lindsay, and Angell there.

"Had a nice nap?" Lindsay continued from Stella's left. Stella smiled sleepily at all of her friends.

"How long have I been asleep?" she queried groggily.

"'bout six hours," Adam replied from his spot on Stella's right. "Nothing too drastic."

"And before you ask," Hawkes put in, anticipating Stella's next question. "Danny's stuck at the precicnt doing paperwork on the Emery arrest, Sid's got bodies from a traffic accident on the FDR, and Flack and Mac are interviewing Emery now."

Stella was hesitant to ask about Emery after the day that they all had. "They get anything out of him?"

Angell shrugged. "We don't know. They started a couple of hours ago. The interview could still be in progress or they could be close to done. Personally, I hope that they just do a quick interview and lock up that son of a bitch. He's caused enough problems in our lives."

Stella chuckled. "I hear you, but you know they have to get more out of him. We have enough to put him away for good, but more is always better in court."

Lindsay nodded in agreement. "I agree, but enough about Emery. Let's talk about you. How are you feeling?"

The Greek instinctively rubbed her sore abdomen and felt her left leg tense slightly. "I'm a bit bruised and battered, but nothing that a good rest will fix. I should be back at work tomorrow, the day after at the most."

Adam looked a bit worried at that statement. "Whoa, a-are you sure you're ready to head back to work so soon? You know, you've had quite the ordeal."

Stella smiled at her friend's concern. "I appreciate your concern, Adam, but I'm not a china doll. Sore limbs don't mean much. It's not like I just came out of a coma either." She turned to Hawkes. "You were shot _and _you were in a coma. Shouldn't you be taking some time off?"

"Nah, I think I'm fine," the former medical examiner responded. "Just need to take my pain meds and I'm good to go."

"You know, Doc, she's right," Lindsay put in. "Your body's been through much more pain than Stella's. I think a few days off would do good for you."

Hawkes tried to reassure them. "Guys, really, I'm fine," he looked around at all of them and crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."

"I believe him," Angell said. "I think he should still take a couple of days off, but if the Doc says 'Scout's honor', then I believe him. If it was Flack on the other hand..." Everyone burst into laughter.

Stella felt great laughing with her friends, but the medicine that the hospital gave her was making her feel drowsy. She let everybody know and they had no problem with that.

"I think after today, we all just need to relax," Adam said.

"Let's go grab a drink," Angell suggested. "I vote that Adam pays!" Everybody chuckled while Adam stood there looking shocked at the sudden statement, head tilted in consternation.

Lindsay smiled at them and hugged Stella, careful not to hurt her tender abdomen. "See you soon, Stell. Have a good rest." Each of her friends hugged her in turn and then began to amble out the door.

"See you guys," Stella waved to her friends. "Have a cold one for me!" Angell shot a thumbs-up in acknowledgement and left.

The CSI then leaned back in her bed, barely acknowledging the "Hey there, bossman" Adam gave to an arriving visitor.

Right before she drifted off completely, she heard her name called by that one familiar voice she loved hearing. "Stella."

Stella's eyes shot open. Standing in front of her with a mixed expression of concern and relief on his face was Mac.

"Mac." Her sleepy voice was so low that it was almost a whisper. The aforementioned man slowly walked over and stood at the right side of her bed. Stella's eyes followed him as he walked and she smiled when he came next to her.

She tried to give him a serious look, but failed. "You know we have a lot to talk about."

Mac smiled when he saw the smile on her face. "But that talk can wait, can't it?" He leaned over and embraced her. Stella wrapped her arms around him and leaned into the embrace. The two held each other and didn't let go. They felt safe in each other's arms and now that their case was over, they could stay there for as long as they needed.

Stella felt a sense of belonging there with Mac. '_This_,' she thought, '_is where I belong._

* * *

**Okay guys. I need your complete and utter honesty when reviewing this. I tried to make it extra long for you guys. Also, I had so much trouble getting this together, so I need opinions! Did the Danny and Sid scene fit? Was the SMacked bit too much or just right? I had to include a SMacked bit for everyone there. ;)**

**Just need to give a shoutout to **lily moonlight **because I'm too lazy to write a message. XD I read the next chapter of 'Old West' and also read 'Someone Special' and 'In this Moment' and loved both! :D However, I can't review them yet because I leave for Greece on the 20th and need to pack. So far, my suitcase consists of two pairs of jeans and two shirts. -_-**

**Well, I hope you liked it! Reviews + constructive criticism = yes. :) all the time. **

**Mucho love,**

**Aly**


	17. Epilogue

**Eight months. Eight. Freaking. Months. …please don't kill me?**

**Yes, I have been lazy. Yes, I am a procrastinator. Yes, I have been busy. Yes, I have been out of the country. Yes, I've been everywhere except . **

**I AM SORRY. D: But seriously though guys, aside from the laziness and procrastinaton, I have been busy. I JUST submitted my second-to-last college application yesterday. I did get accepted to one of my top schools, though. University of New Haven, with a $19,000 scholarship. :) College stuff and schoolwork, not to mention actual work, has been my top priority. Even during this break, I have tons of AP English work & scholarship essays to write. But I said to myself that I HAD to update before the New Year! And I did that...it's still 2011 in Hawaii and Alaska, anyway.**

**I know you're saying, "JUST GET ON WITH THE STORY ALREADY!" but I have just a couple of things I feel like sharing. You can skip these if you want. XD**

**-_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II:_ they had a premiere in NYC. I live in NYC. Obviously, I couldn't get tickets, but like the dedicated fan I am, I stayed outside for 12+ hours in 90+ degree weather. It was so worth it. I got so many pictures & autographs from Emma Watson, Tom Felton, & Alan Rickman! :D **

**-_Summer Vacation_: I went to China & Finland. China was a unique experience. Totally different from what I'm used to. I didn't really like being there at first, but towards the end, I grew to like it. & Finland was just gorgeous. I went to Helsinki & adored the city & its people. **

**-_SPACE Tour-_ Is anyone here a StarKid fan? They made A Very Potter Musical? No? Well, you may be familiar with one of their founding members, Darren Criss. Anyway, I am HUGE StarKid! I adore them & all of their productions! & I went to see them in concert! It was AMAZING. Most perfect concert I've EVER been to! & I met three members, Tyler Brunsman (Cedric & Lucius from the Potter musicals), Joe Moses (Snape), & Clark Baxtresser (the SPACE pianist). They are the most down-to-earth people & super nice! **

**Back to the fanfiction. I COULD have been a cruel author and ended the story at the last chapter, but I decided to write an epilogue. **

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, thoughts, reviews, constructive criticism, rip it apart into teeny tiny pieces and devour it. Well, you don't have to do the last thing. That's reserved for my friends who read over my college essays. XD**

**Thanks to **lily moonlight, SnuggleSmacky, **and **afrozenheart412 **for reviewing!**

**Happy Belated Holidays and I wish everybody a totally awesome 2012! :D **

**Disclaimer: **I never have owned it and never will.

* * *

_Three Months Later_

"We, the people of the jury, find Oscar Emery guilty of three counts of first-degree murder, two counts of attempted murder, one count of kidnapping, and one count of assault against a police officer." the jury foreman said.

The judge nodded. "I hereby sentence you to three consecutive life sentences at Riker's Island Correctional Facility. Court dismissed." He pounded his gavel, signaling the end of court.

Stella, who was gripping Mac's hand with an intense tightness, relaxed her hold and let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

Mac heard her sigh. He looked at her and said, "There was absolutely no way that he would go free. The evidence against him was overwhelming."

Stella looked at him. "I know, but it _could_ have gone the other way."

"But it didn't," Mac pointed out. "He's going away for life. You never have to worry about him anymore."

There was a clinking of metal. Mac and Stella looked up to see Emery being handcuffed and brought away by a couple of uniformed officers. Emery had an indifferent look on his face, like he was bored with the fact that he was going to jail for the rest of his life.

"Son of a bitch," a voice from behind them said. Mac and Stella turned around and saw Flack standing there with a bit of a disgusted look on his face. Hawkes trailed behind him.

"Well, at least he's gone for good," Hawkes said. "We can finally put all of those events behind us."

"While we do that, how about we all go get dinner and a drink to celebrate?" Flack said, turning on his heel and walking toward the exit. "I'll call the rest of the guys! Let's meet at O'Doyle's in two hours." He whipped out his phone and dialed Danny as he left.

Hawkes inclined his head to where Flack was just standing. "He's my ride. I just hope he doesn't crash the car in his eagerness to get one of those juicy O'Doyle's steaks."

The three walked out of the courthouse and were promptly hounded by the usual crowd of pesky reporters on the courthouse steps.

"Detective Taylor, do you feel that Emery's sentence was not harsh enough for his crimes?" one reporter asked as he shoved his microphone into Mac's face.

"Doctor Hawkes, do you have any comments about the verdict?" A reporter inquired as he thrust his recorder toward Hawkes.

"Detective Bonasera, how exactly did this ordeal affect you?" A camera light nearly blinded Stella as a reporter asked her the question.

Mac held up his hands to silence the clamoring reporters. "Look, I'm not going to comment on the investigation or the verdict. All I'm going to say is that Oscar Emery was a dangerous individual with no fear of being caught. It's better for him to be off the streets. That's all." He, Stella, and Hawkes walked down the steps to meet Flack.

"Detective Taylor!" "Detective Bonasera!" they yelled after the retreating CSIs. However, they finally ceased clamoring when they realized that they weren't going to get their questions answered.

Flack looked slightly amused as the three reached him. "Have fun with the reporter hounds?"

Mac shot him a half annoyed, half amused look. "Don't even start."

Flack chuckled. "See you guys in two hours?"

Mac nodded. "We'll be there." Hawkes and Flack said their goodbyes, climbed into the car, and drove away.

He looked at Stella, who was leaning against their car. "What's going on? You've been quiet ever since we walked out of the courtroom."

Stella looked at him pensively. "I was just thinking about the case. About everything that happened since the beginning."

Mac looked at her in concern. "Anything in particular."

The Greek detective shook her head. "Nothing in particular. Just thinking."

"If you don't feel up to going to O'Doyle's later, I'll call Flack right now and tell him that we're not going," Mac whipped out his phone, prepared to dial Flack.

Stella's expression went from pensive to amused. "We?"

"Sure," Mac smiled. "Who else would keep you company?"

"I don't know, Adam's quite a character..." Stella smirked. Mac chuckled, but quickly became quiet.

"Seriously, Stell. If you don't feel like going, just say the word. It's been a long day, a long trial. If you need time to relax and just have a quiet night at home, you should," Mac said quietly.

"Mac," Stella smiled and touched his shoulder. "Your concern is touching. Really, I do appreciate it. But it _has _been a long case. It'd be relaxing to celebrate the final end of this case with all of you guys."

"You sure?" Mac asked.

"I'm sure," Stella got up and went to open the passenger side door.

"No, I know you're sure that you want to go," Mac said. Stella stopped and looked at him, confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, head cocked to one side in confusion.

"What I meant was, you sure you're not just going for the steak?" Mac answered. The corners of his mouth turned upward as he smiled.

Stella shook her head, but shot him a smile. Things were going to be just fine.

* * *

"Yeah, but then you dropped it on your foot and started swearing all around the squadroom!" Angell laughed.

"I've never seen the Captain look redder," Danny snickered as Flack took a swig of his beer.

"Yeah, well, in my defense, I was grabbing a box of heavy trophies over from this wiseass over here," Flack said, pointing at Danny. "There's no way I _wasn't_ gonna drop it. He let go too quickly."

Angell waved her hand, dismissing his comment. "Potato, potahto."

Sid chuckled, amused by the trio's interactions. "If it means seeing events like these, I should come out of Autopsy more often."

"You should, Sid!" Stella said as she put down her steak knife. "It'd be great to have you with us in the land of the living."

"You should also throw some dinner parties more often," Lindsay put in. "Come on, Sid, you know your wife's paella is the best in the world! How about sharing some of that goodness with the rest of us?" She grinned at the medical examiner.

"I agree with Lindsay one hundred and ten percent, but I understand why you'd want to keep it to yourself. Who _wouldn't _want to keep that paella all to themselves?" Hawkes said.

"Yeah, but sharing _is _caring," Adam argued.

Mac looked around at the table. Angell and Danny were still mercilessly teasing Flack about the box-dropping event. Lindsay was planning a slightly flustered Sid's next dinner party as Adam threw in possible food suggestions. Hawkes looked on, amused.

"What's on your mind?" a voice to his right inquired. Mac turned his head to see Stella looking at him curiously.

"Nothing. Just...watching," Mac said, turning his gaze to Stella.

She chuckled. "Yeah, they are quite the bunch. But it's moments like these when you can really sit back and say, 'Wow. Am I really so lucky to have found such great friends? Such great _family?_'"

Mac grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I couldn't have said it better myself." They both smiled at each other.

Suddenly, they heard a, "That's it, Messer! I'm gonna kill ya!" Flack grabbed a dinner roll and prepared to throw it at Danny.

"Now, kids," chided Lindsay. "No throwing food at the dinner table."

Flack threw the roll anyway. Danny moved at the last second, and the roll soared passed his head, narrowly hitting the patron behind them.

Flack leaned back in his chair, looking more disappointed than upset. "Next time, Messer." he murmured, taking a swig of his beer.

The table burst out into laughter. Yes, this is where they belonged. No matter what life threw at them, they knew that they always had each other. That was all they need.

* * *

**I have to say, this is probably one of the corniest, cheesiest, most terrible ending I've ever written. I'm sorry about all this, really! It's an epilogue, so it's shorter to begin with, but then I came to this. I'm sorry, I've had a lack of inspiration for months! D: **

**But please, thoughts are wonderful; criticism is ENCOURAGED. :D**

**Oh, and **lily moonlight, **I know I've still got to review your stuff! But I've read it all and it's great, especially the humor one. :)) And **afrozenheart412,** I've still got to reply to your PM! I'm sorry for being terribly behind. :x**

**THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story for the long time it's been around! I truly love you all! Special thanks to **afrozenheart412 **and **lily moonlight **for sticking with me even though I'm a terrible updater.**

**Happy New Year to all! **


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